


Love Is Not a Gadget

by blown_transistor



Series: Old Fashioned Love Songs [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2018-10-17 11:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 83,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blown_transistor/pseuds/blown_transistor
Summary: "The moment you think you know what's going on in a woman's head is the moment your goose is well and truly cooked." Seventy years after downing the plane in the ice, Howard Stark's words come back with a vengeance in Steve's new surroundings. ...And why are so many of the thoughts in Holly's head about Tony Stark?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally published under the same title on FanFiction.net. I've since removed my work from there in favor of having it here. I've edited this story before posting to remove some plot points I wasn't in love with. When I edit the playlist for the story, I'll post it here as well.

_ Don't you want to know how we keep starting fires? It's my desire, it's my desire, it's my desire. Danger! Danger! High Voltage! When we touch, when we kiss! Danger! Danger! High Voltage! When we touch, when we kiss when we touch… _

 

A freshly manicured right hand shot out from under the fluffy blankets atop the queen sized bed and met the glass top of the nightstand with a cold slap at the sound of her cell phone ringing. When the hand closed around the rectangular object that interrupted her  _ wonderful _ dream of David Tennant's portrayal of the Tenth Doctor shouting his hallmark "Allons-y" and dragging her off into the TARDIS, she slowly opened one brown eye to read the screen. "Why in the world can't S.H.I.E.L.D. ever need an emergency consultation during office hours?" she groaned, voice thick with sleep after sliding the green icon across the screen to answer the call.

" _ They found him _ ," the decidedly male voice announced with thinly veiled excitement from the other end of the line.

"Coulson, it's…" she trailed off and pulled the phone away from her face long enough to ascertain the time. "4:24 in the morning. Who did they find? I can't think of anyone who's missing."

" _ They found Captain Rogers an hour ago, Holly _ ."

A mop of long, brown curly hair suddenly shot out from underneath the covers. The mention of the world's first superhero made her eyes open and try to focus in the dark bedroom. "I'm sorry, I think I'm losing my mind. Did you just say that they found a 'Captain Rogers'?"

" _ There's only one 'Captain Rogers' I'd be calling you about at 4:30 in the morning. A Russian oil crew found the ship in the ice _ ."

"So I'm not hallucinating," Holly Morgan scoffed before a sobering thought hit her. "They just found Captain America seventy years too late."

" _ It's not too late. He's still alive _ ."

She sighed heavily. Her friend was clearly delusional. "Phil, the man's been on ice for seven decades. There's no way he can still be al-"

" _ Doctors confirmed it. We need you to come in. The plane's going to land in two and a half hours _ ."

"And you're going to be there to meet him?" Holly asked with a smile. "You're screaming internally right now, aren't you?"

" _ Two and a half hours, Miss Morgan _ ."

* * *

"I'd best be getting combat pay for this," she whispered out of the side of her mouth at Phil Coulson with a yawn. She hadn't been this dressed down at work in…a very long time. Owing to the ungodly hour, she didn't suppose many would care that she sported a black tank top underneath a grey v-necked sweater and stonewashed jeans. She shook her head, suppressing laughter. The middle-aged agent she'd befriended her first day as a consultant for the super-secret organization four years earlier was clearly trying to maintain some professionalism and contain his inner fanboy as the smile he was trying not to show was slowly breaking through.

He'd told her some of the more exciting things he'd been called out for. She descended into fits of uncontrolled laughter when he told her about threatening to tase Tony Stark "and watch  _ Supernanny  _ while you drool into the carpet". She recalled making a similar threat to the billionaire years earlier, only it didn't involve reality television…

Phil was out in New Mexico earlier when an atmospheric disturbance had yielded nothing less than the Norse God of Thunder and his cohorts. He'd even brought her back a souvenir – a giant metal shell of a man that shot fire out of its face (or so Coulson claimed). Months later, she still wasn't entirely sure how he managed to get a crate the size of a tractor trailer into her lab, but somehow he did… And Director Fury attached a note to the crate requesting her to not only figure out how it worked, but to also work up a prototype to adapt it for S.H.I.E.L.D use.

Her thoughts were jarred back to the present when a heavy metal door swung open suddenly, making sharp contact with the wall behind it. She watched her comrade snap to attention when Director Fury entered the room ahead of the swirl of his black trench coat.

He shoved an envelope into Coulson's hand when he stopped in front of the consultant and his agent. "He's going to need a place to stay. The instructions are in the envelope. Morgan will help you when she's not using her patent to make the Captain a new suit."

Holly's brown eyes widened in surprise. If she weren't in a situation where it would be frowned upon, she could have began giggling in childish delight and skipped promptly off to her lab. She contemplated asking the intimidating director to repeat his command so she could record it. She could send one copy to her grandmother and put a copy on the graves of her father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. "Holy shit," she muttered after Fury had walked away. She had a chance to follow in their footsteps in a way that idiot cousin of hers never would be able to.

The heavy metal door swung open again, this time a medical team wheeling a gurney entered the dimly lit foyer. The attendants spoke softly to each other, checking various life signs as they walked. "Morgan, you have to come with us," one barked, thrusting an instantly recognizable circular shield into her hands. "You're in charge of this and the uniform when we get it off."

She chanced a glance over at Phil, smiling when she saw his mouth agape. "I'll need some help." Her eyes suddenly fell upon the angular profile of Captain Steve Rogers. She found herself licking her lips before shaking herself out of it. Not only was the man unconscious, but he was well over ninety. Fifteen years was a difference she could work with. She'd done it. Sixty-five years? Nope.

"Fury said bring whoever you need."

Phil Coulson thought he might faint when he realized that Holly was trying to hand him the shield.

"And who better to help me?" she asked with a grin. "The uniform will take a while."

Shifting the shield onto his left arm, the older agent quickly pulled out his wallet from the back pocket of his black pants. He quickly produced a folded up piece of white paper and handed it to Holly. "I had some ideas about the uniform.”


	2. Chapter One

_One week later…_

 

"Coulson!" Holiday Morgan hissed to the older agent as she stared through the one-way glass into the mock World War II-era recovery room constructed inside S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters at Director Fury's request. Clearly, she wasn't getting through to him, as he was blatantly staring through the glass as well. "Phil Coulson!"

The use of his given first name instead of "Agent" snapped him to attention. His eyes turned from the stirring super-soldier in the next room to the brunette beside him who was desperately trying to tie her tie as fast as she could with fumbling fingers. "Miss Morgan, he's waking up! Get in there!" he responded in an exasperated tone.

"Are my seams straight?" she asked in a panicked whisper. "If this is going to work, he can't notice my se-"

The older agent cocked his head and peered at Holiday Morgan's calves. "Straight as an arrow, nothing to worry about. You've gotta get in there!"

Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her already perfect brown curls and her now tied uniform tie. "What about my lipstick?"

"Perfect as always, Holiday Golightly. GO!" He shoved a tiny electronic box with a button on the side into her right hand, shaking his head and stepping out of view as he watched her prepare to open the door.

She took another deep breath, steeling her nerve and putting on a calm mask to hide her panic. She'd been ogling Steve Rogers' body through the glass since the day they'd brought him back to New York after he'd been pulled from the ice. She slowly opened the door into the room. "Good morning, or should I say afternoon?" she asked with a polite smile, looking up from her watch into the big blue eyes of the world's first superhero. If there was ever a time she needed to have a poker face, this was it. She wasn't near as star-struck as her friend, Agent Coulson, but a girl can certainly appreciate a finely-toned male form, right?

"Where am I?" he asked, voice slightly rough from disuse as he shifted his gaze from the room around him to the brunette in front of him.

"You're in a recovery room in New York City." Holly smiled. This was a smile she didn't have to fake. He'd probably saved the world by downing that plane all those years ago. She was genuinely glad that he was awake. Maybe one day, she'd even have the guts to thank him for it.

"Where am I really?" Steve's blue eyes narrowed as he stared at the unfamiliar woman. A lot was wrong in this situation, starting with the baseball game broadcast. If this was a military hospital, her hair shouldn’t be down. Her shirt didn’t lay right across her chest. There was something off about her lipstick. And her eyebrows...

"I'm afraid I don't understand," she countered. She still sported a smile, but was certain he caught it slip.

"The game. It's from May 1941. I know 'cause I was there." He stood up from the metal-framed bed and walked towards her, hoping that merely his presence would intimidate her enough to give him the information he desperately sought. "Now I'm gonna ask you again, where am I?"

"Captain Rogers…" Holly lowered her head, making like she wanted to admit something, before pressing the button on the tiny box Coulson had given her.

"Who are you?" he demanded just before two men in strange clothes entered through the same door that she did moments before.

"Captain Rogers, wait," she called after the super-soldier shoved the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents through the wall of the makeshift room and made a break for it. She stepped through the massive hole in the wall. "All agents, code thirteen. I repeat, all agents code thirteen." She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes in exasperation. When she finally removed her hands, she made sure to be careful to reform her carefully applied false eyelashes.

Fury said this was supposed to be fool-proof. She hadn't designed the room. She hadn't decided which baseball game recording to air. It wasn't her fault. Had the game not given it away, she could have attributed the falter in her smile to a need to thank the Captain for saving a male family member she could have made up on the spot from a H.Y.D.R.A. camp. As soon as she saw him take off through the front door, she left the mock recovery room via the actual door (not the hole that had been punched through the wall) to retrieve her actual clothes and made her way to the nearest bathroom to change back.

When she emerged from the lobby bathroom fifteen minutes later wearing a knee-length black and white houndstooth wool skirt, black button-up shirt, and black stilettos, she was surprised to see the super-soldier walking back into the building. _Perhaps now would be a good time to just leave for the day_ , she thought as she turned towards the elevator that would take her up to the floor her laboratory occupied to retrieve her massive purse. Just before her manicured nail touched the button to call the elevator, she heard an embarrassed voice behind her ask "Ma'am?" quietly. Holly turned around to see Captain Rogers standing behind her with a tinge of pink on his cheeks. "What can I do for you, Captain Rogers?" she asked as she clasped her hands in front of her.

"I-I just wanted to apologize for the way I spoke to you back there." He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, bringing a slight smile to her face. "That's not any way to talk to a lady, even if one wakes up in a strange place."

It took almost all of Holly's self-control not to give him the "I should be mad, but you're so darn cute that I can't be" look one might give to a puppy when it licks someone's hand after it did something wrong. It took the rest of her self-control not to burst out into a smile and begin to fawn over the welcome influx of some old fashioned manners. Instead, she held out her right hand in a welcoming gesture. "Holiday Morgan. Nice to finally meet you, Captain," she said with a polite smile. When he accepted the offered hand and shook it, she continued. "I should apologize for that deception back there…"

"The director said he wanted to break it to me slowly," Steve interjected as he shifted his eyes to look at the floor. Breaking away and running definitely hadn't been one of his finer moments, but it seemed like a perfectly valid reaction at the time.

"Yes. It was all his idea, including my involvement." She paused and let out a small chuckle before pulling her hair back up into the ponytail it had been in before she quickly changed into the old uniform. "I've discovered that my definition of a consultant's position and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s definition of a consultant's position are two completely different things. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s clearly involves playing dress-up."

He stared blankly at the disarmingly blunt brunette. Was she really speaking about her position at a government agency in terms of a children's game? This was by far not the first time that a lady had left Steve Rogers speechless. And it probably won't be the last, he mused. Maybe she just knew more than he did, but this dame that looked like she stepped off the cover of a 1941 _Vogue_ didn't even seem fazed by his presence.

Holly smiled. She couldn't read his exact thoughts, but she could tell his mind was running a mile a minute. "Captain, I've been with S.H.I.E.L.D. for a while now. Would you believe me if I said pulling you out of the ice and having you wake up a-okay is not the weirdest thing that's happened since I've been here? Hell, I've seen weirder things _this week_." She chuckled when his jaw dropped. "I'm being completely serious."

"I… I find that very difficult to believe, ma'am. I don't even understand _how_ I'm here."

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough, but let's just say for now that where there's a 'first superhero' title, it means there are others." When the stunned expression only intensified, she patted his bicep (god, she'd been _itching_ to do that) before pushing the elevator button. "Ask me about Bruce Banner later."

* * *

Steve Rogers stood ramrod straight in the elevator as he rode up to the floor he'd been told to report to by Director Fury. He'd been back in the land of the living for all of seventy-two hours, and already S.H.I.E.L.D. had everything a person living in this strange time would need sorted out for him. Clearly, a super-secret government agency can get things done faster than anticipated.

The Director had personally visited his temporary housing in one of the sublevels of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters the night before, handing him an envelope containing everything he'd need to pick up life right where he left off…seventy years after he left. He'd been given a motorcycle license that said he was born in 1983 instead of 1918 and something called a debit card that would give him access to his recently unfrozen back pay and S.H.I.E.L.D. stipend. As the Director was exiting the room, almost as an afterthought, he added that Captain Rogers should report at ten the following morning to be taken to his permanent housing.

Steve spent the rest of the night unable to sleep, not that he felt he needed to. After all, he'd slept for seventy years. Surely, there had to be something else he could do. Not only would sleep just plain not come, his mind wouldn't shut off and kept him up worrying. Would his "permanent housing" be filled with all manner of strange gizmos that he didn't know how to work like this temporary housing? Was this "permanent housing" someplace on Manhattan where he would stand out like a sore thumb? When he looked at the clock and realized that it was six in the morning, he got up and went for a walk. He even stopped to use this debit card for the first time to get a cup of coffee and a muffin. Surprisingly, the tiny plastic card worked.

His thoughts returned to the present when the elevator dinged, signaling that he had reached his destination on the tenth floor. Stepping out onto the white marble that contained flecks of black, he squinted in an effort to see through the sun-drenched room. He straightened his dark pinstripe pants and crisp green and white checkered button-down shirt before rounding the corner into the only doorway on the floor. His eyes fell on the brunette that he saw when he woke up sitting at a desk amongst several tables covered in various…objects that he couldn't place.

"Good morning, Captain," Holiday Morgan said with a smile as she stood up from the table, dropping a large black object shaped like a gun with a bang. Since she'd been told that her day would involve helping the world's first superhero into his new place, she opted for khaki wool pants paired with a white tank top, thick navy cardigan, and blue kitten heels.

"Good morning, Miss Morgan."

She slid on her fur-lined aviator jacket to shield her from the crisp early March air and picked up her large bag. "Ready to go?" Her coffee had _definitely_ set in. There was no way she'd be this chipper without it after working extremely late nights recently. To say that she was living on adrenaline, caffeine, and concealer to erase the bags under her eyes was an understatement. Functioning, yes. Living, no.

"Y-Yes, I suppose," he replied nervously. He couldn't help but think of several occasions where he could have used a jacket that warm during the war. It almost looked GI, too… Steve shook himself out of his line of thought when he realized he was trailing behind. "Shouldn't I get my things?"

Holding her large leather bag in front of her knees, she pressed the down arrow and turned back to him. "The things you had with you are already in a car downstairs waiting for us."

"That was fast," Steve murmured. Was someone outside his door waiting for him to leave? That would just be downright…spooky. When the elevator door opened, he stepped in behind her.

"You get used to it," Holly lied effortlessly. She'd been at S.H.I.E.L.D. for four years now and still wasn't used to the speed at which an agent would show up at her door if something major was happening.

He let out a heavy sigh and tried to remember what Bucky had told him years ago about making small talk, even if you weren't romantically interested in the girl. It was just polite. "So, uh, how long have you been here at S.H.I.E.L.D.?" He forced himself to look up into Miss Morgan's face for fear that she could sense how nervous he was if he didn't.

"Four years. I moved here from California to 'consult'…" She paused to choose her next words carefully, to avoid giving up too much personal information "…and I'm still here." She breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator opened at the motor pool floor. Hopefully he wouldn't ask any more questions.

Steve opened his mouth to ask more questions, but they died on his lips when she hopped off the elevator car and made her way to a desk in front of him. She seemed a bit cagey, but he had to constantly remind himself that he wasn't a harmless ninety pound asthmatic anymore. He _could_ be intimidating…He mindlessly followed her across the underground garage to a black car that looked exactly like one of the ones that barricaded him in when he ran into Times Square. Shaking his head when she pressed a button on the key and the lights flashed, he opened the passenger's side door. "Ma'am, where are we going if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired, buckling his seatbelt as she did the same before turning the engine over.

"Brooklyn," Holly said, skillfully navigating the car out of the garage and onto the streets of Manhattan. "And we're not at S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore, so please, call me Holly."

"B-Brooklyn?" he choked out, not even hearing the rest of what she said. He was going home after all this time! If he weren't in the car with a dame who looked like she could _end him_ with just a look, he might give into his baser instincts and cry.

Her dark gaze softened when she looked over and saw the joy and relief in his eyes. "We have an apartment set up for you there. It's been in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s possession for years. When you were found alive and it would only be a matter of time before you woke up, the decision was made to convert it back into a residence for you." She reached over and put her hand on his forearm that rested on the center console, unable to stifle a smirk as he flinched at the contact. "Figured it was the least we could do for you after what you did for us."

Steve cleared his throat and looked out at the passing skyscrapers. "I was just doing my duty ma'am." Out of the corner of a blue eye, he saw his chauffeur glaring at him for a moment before he suddenly remembered what she'd told him. "I was just doing my duty, _Holly_ ," he corrected quickly.

As the skyscrapers of Manhattan faded into the row houses and walk-ups of Brooklyn, he began to relax and feel like things were a little more familiar. He watched as she turned off the highway and began making her way through the tiny packed side streets. He smiled. A good number of the buildings had changed, but the kids playing and the people living their lives didn't. When he felt the car stop, he looked up at the three-story walk-up she parked next to. "Is this…" He pointed up at the dark bricked building hopefully.

"Your new home, yes," she interrupted with a smile. She turned off the car and pressed a button on the black key fob to open the back hatch. Watching Steve exit the car, Holly offered up a silent prayer to the god she hadn't prayed to in years that her decorating skills were still up to snuff.

She'd been given a credit card with an _ungodly_ high limit on it about ten minutes after the soldier had been returned to S.H.I.E.L.D. still unconscious with explicit instructions to decorate an apartment so it looked like 1942…before he woke up. Somewhere in between spending her days working on various projects for S.H.I.E.L.D., spending her nights coming behind the painters and placing furniture around the rooms and making sure everything in the apartment that could be laundered was (to give it that clean laundry, home-y scent), she managed to type up detailed instructions for the computer, answering machine, television, Blu-ray player, and basic cell phone she'd purchased as incidentals for Captain Rogers. Hopefully, the cheerfully wrapped gift in her bag would break the ice…

Carrying two duffel bags containing all that was left of his possessions, Steve followed Miss Morgan up the front steps, into the building, and up three flights of stairs to his new home. He watched as she produced a key ring with two keys on it from her pants pocket. She was quick to point out that the smaller of the two was for his mailbox downstairs as she inserted the larger one into the lock and turned. He dropped the bags in shock as he stepped past her and into the apartment. The living room at least looked like something out of a _Better Homes and Gardens_ magazine…from just before he shipped off to Europe.

Holly let her head drop back in relief for a brief second, taking his apparent shock as a sign that her prayers had been answered. The antique dealers she'd called in a panic over the past couple days thought she was absolutely batty when she offered to pay insane amounts of money to have the larger items delivered _immediately_. Admittedly, the color scheme wasn't one she would have chosen for her own domicile (too much tan on the walls), but obviously it was a hit with its intended audience. She smiled as he darted off to the left into the kitchen, only to quickly return to the living room and dart into the bedroom and bathroom off the right side.

"I… How did…" He found himself at a loss for words. Some of the things he noticed offhand hadn't been made since _before_ he went down.

"I take it our esteemed one-eyed leader didn't mention that he gave _me_ a blank check and told me to decorate your apartment?" she asked with a laugh. A super-soldier at a loss for words? Clearly she did her job.

Steve looked down at the woman, who with her shoes, came up to the bottom tip of his nose and scoffed in disbelief. "You found all these things?"

A yawn managed to escape before she could stop it. "I have it on good authority that I've slept about as much as you have since your little jog." She held her hands up, motioning at the apartment around her. "I'm proud of _myself_ that I got this done in a week."

He looked at the floor sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "I guess I should thank you. Clearly, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s definition of a consultant's position includes interior decorating, too."

"I guess it does, but hey, I get to get out of the lab for a while. Sometimes I need to be reminded what sunshine is." She walked across the room and set her purse on the dark wood of the desk by the window. "Did you look in the bureau or the closet when you sprinted into the bedroom?" When he shook his head, she nodded. "We uh… We used your old uniform as a size gauge and got you some more clothes, too. Don't worry," Holly added hastily, sensing his apprehension at the thought of either someone else buying his underwear or the thought of "modern" clothes, "they're nothing you aren’t used to."

Steve tried not to show just how relieved he was, but failed. Apartment _and_ clothes that he was used to? There had to be a catch, though…

"Now, according to our esteemed leader, I am at your service for the rest of the day. There are some things in here that you don't know how to work. You probably need to go get some food, as that's the one thing we hadn't already taken care of beyond some bare essentials…"

He knew it. The catch was "modern gizmo lessons", something he wanted to put off as long as possible. Now that she was here, presumably ready to teach, he couldn't really avoid it. "What things don't I know how to work?" he asked, mentally preparing himself for the answer to be nothing short of "everything except the light switches" as he stared out the window.

Holly suddenly found herself glad she'd brought that little present. Instead of a goodwill gesture, it could be used as a bribe. She pulled the ten page document containing the instructions to various pieces of technology out of her bag. "If we don't get through this list, you won't know how to use this," she said with a sly smile, handing him the small box wrapped in blue and green wrapping paper. Anyone who was even remotely up to date with technology could immediately guess what the package was in general, but she watched him with anticipation as he began to unwrap the gift after she'd assured him it was alright.

A present? No one had given him a present since... Well, it had been quite a long time. As he peeled away the paper, he caught sight of the top of the box inside. He had no idea what a "Blu-ray disc" was, but he opted to keep going. When he saw the title of a familiar movie on the box, he didn't know if he would be able to keep his composure. The last time he'd seen _Gone with the Wind_ was right about the last time he'd seen _The Wizard of Oz_ …with Bucky in the theater. "This is a little small to be a film reel, especially one of a movie this long. And where's the sound tape?" he asked, turning the box over in his hand to see if it was bigger than it looked. There was some kind of wrapping around the box keeping him from opening it…

She motioned for him to hand the box back over to her. "You're right," she began as she used her nails to peel away the plastic wrapping and stickers from the edges of the box before opening it. Pulling the disc free from its place in the center of the back panel, she turned it over so the shiny side caught the morning light and cast rainbows on the walls. "This is too small to be a film reel, and the sound tape _is_ missing. The movie, sound and all, is contained in this disc. There's a…" _Did they have lasers in the Forties?_ "There's a special light in that player over there that can read this. Now, one of the things on this list is how to work that player and the television mounted on the wall over there. If you let me show you, I'll make you some popcorn and you can watch this when we've gone through the list." She gently put the disc back in the box.

Steve looked around the woman in front of him at the large, strange black rectangle hanging on the wall with two smaller boxes on the table underneath it. "T-That's a television?"

 

Over the next two hours, Holly patiently went over the huge document filled with instructions on how to operate everything that Steve didn't immediately recognize. Lesson one was how to operate the television, cable box, and Blu-ray player. All the smaller rectangles with strange buttons were certainly daunting, but suddenly became less so when she promised to not only leave the directions with him, but that half the buttons were ones he'd never have occasion to push. With practice, she assured, he'd get the hang of it in no time. He might even find a show he might like and decide to record. _You can record things off the television to watch later?_

Lesson number two was all about the laptop computer. S.H.I.E.L.D. had set up some sort of electronic mailbox for him. Not that he understood what all that entailed, but once she showed him the section of directions that dealt with it, he was able to log into the system. Immediately, he found a message from Miss Morgan containing a strange string of letters and numbers underlined and in blue text. Showing him how to "click", he realized that she'd sent him a song, "You Belong to Me" by Jo Stafford. She gently explained that the song came out about ten years after he went down, but that didn't mean he couldn't like it. And he did. And if there weren't enough ways to watch a picture, there was this thing called Netflix that would deliver more discs like _Gone with the Wind_ to his mailbox! He could even click the little blue "play" icon if the movie had one that would let him watch it without having to wait!

Lesson number three entailed learning about having to _not_ use a percolator to make coffee and this little white box called a microwave. When she told him that the refrigerator didn't require him to put ice in nor had a large cooling tower on top, he took a step back. They'd internalized the cooling system? It was certainly more aesthetically pleasing… Steve couldn't help but think sadly how many of these inventions his friend Howard Stark had a hand in inventing. He hadn't seen any cars that floated above the road like the one that floated-but-didn't at the World Expo, but that didn't mean there weren't any. It certainly seemed like a good idea.

He seemed relieved when he realized that the table beneath the television had a top that opened to reveal a record player. It was even a record player that looked to be almost as old as he was. This was something he knew how to operate, unlike that portable phone she said he could carry around with him outside the apartment.

Holly scribbled something on top of the directions she'd made up for him before picking up her bag and making for the door. "My cell phone number's on top of those directions if you get stuck."

Steve looked over at her with a look she could have sworn was one of being let down, before picking up his new copy of _Gone with the Wind_. "You said something about popcorn?"

Covering her mouth with her hand, she dropped her purse onto the desk. "I did promise popcorn. There's some already in your new kitchen. Wanna dazzle me with your command of the microwave?" She held out her hand and motioned towards the kitchen. When he hesitantly walked past her and into the kitchen, she followed him and pulled a single bag of popcorn out of a box in the pantry. She made quick work of the plastic wrapper and handed it to him, careful to point out the cooking time.

He didn't know when he was more nervous – when he jumped out of a plane into a cloud of gunfire or at this moment seventy years later as he used a microwave for the first time. Two and a half minutes later, he was rewarded with perfectly cooked and buttered popcorn fresh from the bag that he poured into a blue glass bowl that Holly had produced from one of the cabinets before taking a bottle of water from her. Upon returning to the living room, he quickly peeked at the directions before inserting the disc into the player and turning the television to accept the feed.

When she saw his back turned to her, she quickly pulled a S.H.I.E.L.D. folder from her bag and set it on the table on top of the closed laptop. Exhaling quietly, she suddenly felt better. He needed this, whether he knew it or not.

He took it back. He was definitely more nervous when he jumped out of the plane in the former scenario, but this new one he wasn't sure of. Jump out of a plane amidst gunfire…or ask a pretty girl to watch an old movie that she probably has no interest in? Probably the latter at this juncture. Bucky had always arranged a date for Steve. He'd never asked. Then he…got bigger and didn't have time to ask. "Miss Morg-" The words died on his lips when she raised a brown eyebrow at him. "Holly?"

"Yes?"

"You probably have places to be, but I still wanted to ask… D-Do you want to have some of this popcorn and watch…"

Sensing the palpable awkwardness, she smiled and decided to help a fella out. After all, he could use a friend. "I would love some popcorn, and do you really have to ask a girl to watch one of her favorite movies?"

Steve laughed softly. He watched with fascination as she plopped down beside the left arm of the sofa and pulled some sort of lever to make a footrest pop out before popping a single piece of popcorn in her mouth. He selected the option that said "play movie" and was quickly rewarded with the familiar "A Selznick International Picture" written on an old-timey sign as the opening credits began playing. As the camera panned down onto the house, he sighed happily. "Looks like something out of a painting."

"I know," Holly agreed, popping another piece into her mouth as she smiled at him.

Bucky’d gotten to see Steve post-serum before the fall, but he couldn’t help but wonder what his friend would think if he could see him now, if he could see the world they helped to save all those years ago. So much had changed, yet so much was still the same as he’d left it (as evidenced by the fact that he was currently watching a seventy-five year old movie with a woman that could easily be his granddaughter). He bit back a wince at the thought.

The credits continued to roll, the music taking a turn for the somber notes. Without thinking, Holly found herself closing her eyes and reciting the famous lines that scrolled up the screen just as she did every time she saw the movie. "There was a land of Cavaliers and Cotton Fields called the Old South. Here in this pretty world, Gallantry took its last bow. Here was the last ever to be seen of Knights and their Ladies Fair, of Master and of Slave. Look for it only in books for it is no more than a dream remembered, A Civilization gone with the wind."

Steve smiled sadly hearing her soft voice reading the lines lamenting a bygone era. Were there any poems like that about…his time? His was as surely as much of a bygone era as the antebellum South was, despite the fact that this apartment's decor begged to differ. "There was a land of GI's and Ebbetts Field called the Second World War. Here in this seemingly bleak world, the War brought us out of a Depression. Here was the last ever to be seen of Captain America and his Peggy Fair, of Allies and Axis. Look for it only on newsreels for few now alive still remember, a civilization gone with…"

 

Steve quietly shut the door behind Holly as she left several hours later. He made his way to the small desk by the window, quickly noticing a folder with the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem lying on top of the off-white computer that hadn't been there when she closed it after their Netflix lesson. Pulling out a chair, he sat down and took a deep breath. Holly must have left the folder when he wasn't looking. His fingers ghosted over a note on yellow sticky paper stuck to the front:

 _I figured you'd eventually ask, so I went ahead and brought these for you. My specialty is anticipating people's needs before they ask. If you ever get around to watching an old television show called_ M*A*S*H _(it's about an Army field hospital in Korea in the 1950s, order the discs from Netflix), look for a character called Radar. That's what I feel like I do every day. If you need me for anything at all, just call. –Holly_

He cautiously opened it, the faces of his old comrades popping off their personnel summaries. His heart sinking a little more each time he saw "DECEASED" stamped in big red letters below the pictures.

Suddenly, he found himself face to face with Peggy's personnel summary. His heart skipped a beat when hers only said "RETIRED" instead of "DECEASED". Looking at her birthday, he realized she was about to turn ninety-three, only two years younger than really was. He continued to scan the page that contained her current address and telephone number. He looked over at the cordless landline phone that Holly helped him set up (and he recorded a rather awkward answering machine message) and then back at her page. If he called her, what would he say? What would he do? Maybe he should sleep on it…

The next page in the folder was Howard Stark's. Howard had passed on, too. He set that page aside, on top of Peggy's. He found himself suddenly staring at a younger man who bore a striking resemblance to Howard. The page said "Tony Stark". There was no mistaking who this man's father was. Reading down through the man's list of credentials, he couldn't help but notice that this man was clearly every bit as smart as his old man… He set the page back down on the table in the pile where he picked it from, rubbing his chin in thought. Standing up quickly, he grabbed his jacket. He needed some air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few bits of dialogue from the end of "Captain America: The First Avenger" in this chapter, as well as a bit from "Gone with the Wind". Juuuuust borrowing.


	3. Chapter Two

_ Once upon another time _

_ Before I knew which life was mine _

_ Before I left the child behind me _

_ I saw myself in summer nights _

_ And stars lit up like candle light _

_ I make my wish but mostly I believed… _

 

Over the next couple days, Holly didn't see much of Steve if she saw him at all. She'd seen him around S.H.I.E.L.D. several times as he went back and forth to his handful of ordered meetings with various departments as part of his crash-course introduction to the post-Cold War political climate, but he never stopped to talk to her. She couldn't exactly blame him, though. She hadn't exactly looked like the most approachable person in the world. With the super-soldier up and walking around, Fury had poured gasoline on the fire under her ass to get Steve's new suit fabricated and ready for use. She hadn't spent this much time hopped up on caffeine and adrenaline since her final weeks in college.

As her computer screen faded to black, she looked at her reflection. She blew a raspberry and sighed. She definitely looked better during those final sleepless nights of college. It made perfect sense, though. In college, especially at the end, she had someone to look pretty  _ for _ . Huffing loudly, she jiggled the mouse to bring back up her design program while gently reminding herself that those days were long gone. She'd sleep when she was dead.

* * *

Holly poked her head out of her laboratory door. "Doctor Shaw, a word please?" she called, looking in the direction of the middle-aged therapist in a dark grey suit.

James Shaw stopped mid-step and turned toward the young consultant. He'd been able to crack every other S.H.I.E.L.D. employee at their mandatory pre-employment screening…except Natasha Romanoff and Director Fury himself. "And what can I do for you, Miss Morgan?" he asked, leaning casually on her doorframe in an effort to instill trust in the moment.

"I've been meaning to ask you how Captain Rogers is progressing. I know he wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of talking about his feelings." She folded her arms across her cream v-necked sweater and smiled expectantly.

He quickly straightened his red tie. "Now you of all people should know that I can't go into…"

"Specifics, I know. I wasn't asking for them," she added quickly, face scrunching up in thought as she searched for the desired words. "I uh… I see a lot of my late grandfather in him. He had nightmares about seeing an internment camp until the day he died, but never sought any kind of professional help."

"Not many at all did. It wasn't exactly considered the most 'manly' thing to do at the time."

Holly nodded. "I know. That's part of the reason I wanted to check up on St—Captain Rogers."

The slip didn't get by Doctor Shaw. The therapist decided to tuck that little tidbit away to use in his next session with the Captain. Had he made a friend? "Well, without saying anything I shouldn't, I can tell you that he's still hesitant to open up, but you probably guessed that. I'm slowly prying information out of him, but it's a tough process." He sighed heavily. "As much as I may hope to help, there are a lot of things that Captain Rogers has to do on his own. I can teach him how to channel what he's feeling, but I can't take those feelings away. His old life, and almost all of the people in it, are gone. He'll never be the same person he was before Project Rebirth."

She tore her dark eyes away from his green ones, beginning to stare at the tiled floor instead. "I know," she said dejectedly.

He cocked his head to the side, lowering his gaze in an effort to recapture hers. "Just like you're not the same person you were before the Afghanistan incident…"

Holly snapped her head up, shooting the kindly Bostonian a warning glare. "You're right. I'm not the same person I was. Then, I was a naïve twenty-three-year-old. I took the pills, shed the baggage, and got on with my life," she growled. Suddenly, her ire softened when she remembered why she wanted to talk to him in the first place. "I just want to make sure Steve can get on with his life, too. After all he's done for all of us, I just want to help him if I can."

James Shaw raised an eyebrow as he tried to suppress a smile.

"Oh no," she began, wagging a finger at him. "Don't you start analyzing me. For the record, I am  _ not _ in love with Captain Rogers. What part of 'he reminds me of my grandfather' would indicate that?"

He began to clear his throat to conceal a laugh when an idea hit him. "What would you be willing to do to help him?"

"Is that some kind of trick question?" When she saw that the doctor was indeed serious, she shrugged. "Anything I can, I suppose. What do you have in mind?"

"I hear that you may know a certain Peggy Carter."

Holly began to absentmindedly gnaw on the inside of her lower lip. "I can count on one hand the number of times that I've been in the same room with her over the years. She's friends with my grandmother, not me."

"I only bring it up because Captain Rogers mentioned that you gave him her file. He knows she's alive. He's debated calling her, but hasn't. I think that seeing her again would help with his recovery."

She nodded slowly. "I will uh… I'll make some phone calls and see what I can work out. I'll let you know when I've got something."

"Thank you, Miss Morgan," the therapist said with a satisfied smile. "I'll bring up the idea in our session this afternoon."

When Doctor Shaw was safely in the elevator down the hall, Holly rolled her eyes and flopped down into her black leather chair behind her desk. She let her head drop down to the glass top with a thud before letting out a groan of frustration. What in the hell had she just agreed to do?

She hadn't lied about not knowing the famous Peggy Carter that well. The only time she seemed to see the tough Brit was at funerals. In fact, the last time she saw her was at her grandfather's funeral almost four years prior. As she began to think about how best to go about making arrangements, if any were to be made, a small smile crept across her face. She could give Steve a tearful, stereotypical Hollywood reunion if she kept the whole thing a surprise from Peggy.

However, in order to do that, she'd have to contact the only person in the world that she liked less than her grandmother – Hugh Chapman, one of Peggy's grandsons. Holly suddenly felt bile begin to rise in her throat at the thought of the (then) thirty-year-old virgin that tried to pick her up at her own grandfather's funeral. Judd Apatow had to have written  _ The Forty Year Old Virgin _ for this man. He probably had little Captain America action figures, too.

"He'd better have the time of his fucking life with her," Holly grumbled as she scrolled through her phone's contact list. She whimpered as she clicked on "HUGH CHAPMAN – DO NOT ANSWER" and the line began to ring.

* * *

"Ah, Miss Morgan, still dressing like my mother, I see," Tony quipped, eyeing the petite brunette's older styled blue boat-necked dress with a flared skirt as he entered the main lobby of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters.

Holly sighed, rolling her eyes. She didn't even have to turn around to identify the familiar voice. "Can I help you, Stark?" she asked with a huff.

"Now,  _ Morgan _ ," he began, imitating her irritated tone, "is that any way to say hello to me?" The shit-eating grin he was sporting was a mile wide.

Steve Rogers looked on with wide blue eyes. He'd seen the billionaire's picture in the file Holly left for him, but this was the first time that he personally laid eyes on the man. Physically, he was most definitely his father's son, of that there could be no mistake. The younger man also definitely had his father's finesse with women…well, mostly. He'd seen Peggy roll her eyes at Howard much like he just watched Holly roll hers at Tony.

"Oh, because saying that I dress like your mother is a more appropriate greeting? I don't think so." She turned back to Steve. "Come on, Steve."

"Don't I get a hug before you go?" Tony taunted.

"No," she said emphatically.

"Your loss," he replied with a shrug, stepping into the open elevator.

"Y-You know Howard's son?" Steve asked slowly after the elevator doors closed in front of the billionaire. Despite the fact that Howard Stark had been dead for almost twenty years and his son was in his forties, Steve couldn't quite bring himself to see Tony as his own man yet. He was still "Howard's Son". When Holly nodded in the affirmative, he couldn't help but look at her with an air of incredulity.

"I knew Howard, too," she admitted sadly, remembering his funeral. "Not as well as I know Tony, but I knew him."

"H-How?" He still couldn't believe it. Clearly Walt Disney had it right – it's a small world after all. His past and present were colliding harder than the atoms in the supercollider he'd seen in a special on the History Channel when he couldn't fall asleep.

"It's a long story. Follow me." Holly chuckled and walked over to the elevators. Pulling her keycard free from its place clipped to her dress, she swiped it in the reader beside one of the cars. The door opened, revealing a completely blacked out elevator car that Steve had never seen before. Once her friend was safely beside her in the ominous looking space, she pressed a button on the wall marked STO1. "How closely did you look at your own uniform?" she asked as the elevator lurched upwards.

He began quickly combing through the recesses of his mind, trying to think of anything possibly unusual about the familiar suit. "Was there something I should have noticed?"

"I guess that's one thing that hasn't changed in seventy years. People didn't check the tags on the inside of clothes then, either." She shook her head. Her grandmother had taught her to meticulously check the tags on her clothes for care instructions. Despite their more than comfortable fiscal outlook, her grandparents were still mindful of what happened in October 1929. You didn't waste things, and you certainly didn't run the risk of ruining a $300 "dry clean only" skirt because you put it in the washer.

"I'm not sure that I follow. What does a tag inside my old uniform have to do with how you know the Starks?" he inquired as the black doors opened, revealing a stainless steel paneled room lit only with emergency lights. He watched cautiously as she flipped a switch on the wall just outside of the elevator door, flooding the room with bright fluorescent lighting.

"My great-grandfather, Amos Morgan, started Morgan Defense and Armor in 1913 when he was twenty-four. After seeing what new sorts of methods we'd learned to tear each other to bits, he began figuring out ways to keep us together. He spent his time in the trenches sketching ideas," she began, making her way over to a large panel marked "SHIELD 2" on the wall. "He met Howard Stark in 1942 when they realized they were in a bidding war for the same lump of metal."

His eyes lit up as she pulled the panel out from the wall and produced his shield. He watched her right bicep flex as she pulled the shield from its resting place in the metal drawer. "Vibranium," he confirmed as he slid his arm through the straps on the back of his instantly recognizable emblem for the first time in too many years. It felt like coming home.

Holly couldn't help but smile widely as he was clearly lost in thought, reacquainting himself with an old friend. She stepped back over to the wall and opened another panel, this time removing his suit from the drawer and placing it on the table in the middle of the room. She cleared her throat to bring him back into the present. "Now, the suit." She slid off the straps that held the gun holster and belt before gently opening the front of the suit via the series of heavy-duty snaps that peppered the right side. "See the tag?" she asked, pointing at the small tag that read "CAPT. ROGERS" followed by "DO NOT REMOVE" on the back of the neck.

He'd seen that tag a dozen times and thought it absolutely pointless to even have one. The damned thing rubbed the back of his neck wrong, but it said not to take it off. Ever one to follow orders over personal comfort, he'd left it. "I see it."

"Did you ever flip it over?" She bit her lip in anticipation of his answer. Her grandfather told her long ago about what the back of this tag said, but he was never able to show her. The fact that the suit still clung to its owner at the bottom of a sheet of ice until very recently was a good excuse. The moment Captain Rogers had been found and brought back to New York, she began waiting impatiently for the wet and freezing suit to be removed and placed here so she could look for herself. Agent Coulson had come with her to help her "catalog the belongings" and shared in her childish delight when she saw the message was still sewn into the back of the tag.

"No, I never saw a reason to." Steve quickly caught the hint at the sight of her inability to hide her excitement that maybe the answer was beneath the ever-infuriating tag. He reached down to touch the tag, only to instantly recoil. The room suddenly felt cold as the air left his lungs. The suit felt colder. It felt just like it did in the cold, dark cockpit of the plane.

Holly's joy at sharing this with her friend quickly turned into unmitigated sorrow. She recognized the look on his face. It was the same look she'd seen on her grandfather's face after one of his many nightmares that he always swore were nothing. He'd seen the remnants of several concentration camps as the Allies marched across Germany, but refused to talk about it. "Ending a war doesn't heal all the wounds," he'd told her shortly before his death. "S-Steve?" she asked hesitantly as she threaded her right hand through his left and squeezed tightly. When she saw him exhale heavily, she shifted her eyes toward the battered uniform. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

He cut her off with a curt shake of his head. "It's fine," he lied, pulling his hand free of hers abruptly and shoving it into his pants pocket. "It's just rather chilly in here."

And just like that, she realized, some things don't change. She knew he lied to her just like her grandmother knew when her late husband was lying to her about his dreams. He'd even used the same tone as her grandfather when he dismissed his feelings. She couldn't exactly fault either of them for growing up in an era when men didn't cry or say how they  _ felt _ . "Anyway," she began as she turned over the tag, "Howard Stark wasn't the only civilian contractor called in on 'Project Rebirth'."

Steve squinted, barely able to make out the words formed by the faded stitching. Despite the fact that he was using all available resources not to start shivering or bolt from the room (because not only was he a man, he was  _ Captain America _ ), he smirked when he read "If you want it blown up, call a Stark. If you want to keep a Stark from blowing it up, call a Morgan". "Did I ever meet him?" he asked softly. Secretly, he hoped he hadn't, because it would be truly embarrassing not to remember.

"I don't think so, no. He would have told someone. When it came time to give you a uniform, especially in light of what happened with Erskine and you being the 'army of one' super-soldier, Howard knew he needed to borrow the one set of eyes that could make sure your gear was top of the line. My great-grandfather's only request was that somewhere down the line Howard had to use the Vibranium in some defensive capacity." She almost teared up at the memory of her grandfather telling her all of this over the years. The only reason she didn't cry was that she knew she had an image to maintain, and getting misty-eyed over a memory wasn't going to help that.

"And I happened to pick that shield."

"That you did. Apparently when Howard told him about your choice of shield and what it was made of, they were about to pack up this suit and put it on a plane to Europe. Amos stopped them while he had my great-grandmother stitch this tag together." Holly rubbed the tag absentmindedly between her fingers with a smile. "I don't know if Howard ever even noticed it."

"If he did, he didn't say anything to me about it," he replied, hoping that his words were of some comfort. "So how do you know Tony?"

She laughed. "The first time I met Tony Stark, I was five years old and he was twenty. My grandfather, Michael, and Howard used to meet once or twice a year out in the desert and have what they liked to call 'Desert Parties'. Howard would bring his latest explosive and my grandfather would bring his latest defense against it. This particular party was about a year before Howard died, the last one they ever had. He brought Tony and my grandfather brought me, along with a set of very strong earplugs and a tiny helmet."

Steve couldn't help but chuckle softly at the mental image of Holly as little more than a toddler puttering around in the desert with his old friend and his son. "Wasn't that rather dangerous?"

"I never said it was the smartest thing my grandfather ever did, but let's just say that Howard never managed to destroy a piece of Morgan armor. At the time, my father was running the company. Poppy," she paused and cringed at her use of the term of endearment for her grandfather. "retired fifteen years earlier, but wouldn't let my dad try to beat Howard. He always said that would happen after he died." Holly pushed herself off of her leaning position against the table that still held Steve's uniform and walked to the other side of the room. Tears were forming and there was nothing she could do to stop them now. Damn him for asking about all this, but he had a right to know. "H-Howard made Tony shake my tiny sand-encrusted hand and wished 'the two future captains of industry' all the luck in the world. 'The two of you should work  _ better  _ than Mike and I because Tony'll have a lady to keep him in line', he said."

When she trailed off, he slowly stepped towards her. "But you're not running the company now."

Hearing him walking in her direction, she held out a hand behind her to stop him. "A  _ year _ after that party, Howard and his wife were killed in a car accident. Ironically, a year later, so were mine. Tony was old enough to run a company with help. I was seven. The company went to my older cousin to keep it in the family for as long as possible. I was just the little girl that ran around the R&D areas trying on helmet prototypes, constantly asking how they could be better."

His heart began to break for her. Holly and Tony – the kids who had everything planned out for them. They were supposed to do all but rule the world together. His traitorous mind, fueled by some of the more romantic titles in his Netflix queue, couldn't help but wonder if Howard's comment about Tony having "a lady to keep him in line" didn't mean something more. Could Howard have wanted his son to marry the much younger woman as part of a business merger? He dismissed the idea as quickly as it came to him. He'd been watching too many movies lately… "And did you make them better?"

Holly wiped away the traces of the unshed tears and turned around. "How do you think S.H.I.E.L.D. found me?" she asked, sniffling.

* * *

_ February 19, 2006 _

_ 10:15 pm _

_ Los Angeles, California _

 

Holly grunted in frustration. This reaction wasn't going at all the way she needed it to. This project was due in three days. If this experiment worked, she would not only complete her project, but if her theory was correct, and her theories generally were, she could one-up Kevlar and earn herself a very nice place in her great-grandfather's company. If it didn't work, well, she may have to break down and cry for the first time in years.

There were times she mentally kicked herself for thinking she was more than just a pretty face and deciding that she could somehow complete a bachelors and a masters in Materials Engineering. Her grandmother attributed it to pure spite for her, of course. Everything she did seemed to garner that reaction from the family matriarch. She wanted to stop taking piano lessons at the age of seventeen? It was to spite her grandmother. When she wanted to go to college and major in something other than "home economics" (did they even  _ have _ anything like that anymore?), it was to spite her grandmother. She'd only been twenty-one for eighteen hours, but she'd already received a call from her old-fashioned grandmother wondering when she was going to "stop piddling about in a laboratory and find a man".

 

Tony Stark sauntered down the tiled hallways of Boelter Hall on the UCLA campus, two paper bags in hand. The nice little redhead he'd run into in the entrance way seemed to know all about the next generation of Morgan haunting the labs late at night. She was supposed to be at dinner with her loving grandparents for her birthday. He'd even been invited, which he attributed to a lingering desire by Mrs. Morgan to have her granddaughter become Mrs. Stark. He couldn't help but think Howard would have approved. His son making the weapons, the great-granddaughter of his counterpart in the defense industry making the armor. One-stop shopping.

He grinned as his thoughts turned to the younger Morgan. When in the  _ hell _ did she grow up? More than that, though… When did she manage to achieve the body of a cheerleader? He made a quick mental note to mark that down in the "fantasy list". It seemed like only yesterday she was the pint-sized tyke Michael Morgan equipped with earplugs and a helmet and set down to run around the desert while his old man and her (even older) old man watched things blow up. He should feel like a letch. He was twenty and she was five at the time.

A month ago, Michael had shown him a picture of her from her cousin's, the current CEO of Morgan Defense and Armor, wedding. She most definitely was  _ not _ the five-year-old he remembered. She was a (then) twenty-year-old leggy blonde. Children sometimes have hair color changes as they get older, but he was willing to bet (owing to his experience) that her particular shade of blonde came from a bottle, possibly the same place the light tan came from, too.

The billionaire couldn't help but chuckle. When he last talked to Michael Morgan earlier that morning, he'd been told the birthday celebration had been postponed. Holly had a project that was giving her trouble and was going to have to stay in the lab and work on it. In that instant, he realized she may just be more like him than he could ever have thought. He'd lost count of the number of nights he'd spent in a lab at MIT doing something similar in hopes that Howard might be proud. Work or not, no one deserved to be alone on their birthday, especially someone as smart and beautiful as the illustrious Holiday Morgan.

 

As she carefully assembled the necessary components to start the reaction again, her thoughts suddenly turned to Tony Stark. When she'd been told that the CEO of Stark Industries had been invited to her twenty-first birthday dinner, she couldn't believe it. She'd met the man a handful of times early in her life (at the last Desert Party, at the funeral for Howard Stark and his wife), but she'd never given more than a passing thought to the man. She couldn't help but think, however, that her grandmother was trying to set her up with the younger Stark.

She reached into her pocket and resumed the song playing on her iPod – ELO's "Eldorado". Lighting the Bunsen burner after making sure the materials were safely in the crucible, she began to sing along to the familiar song. "Say goodbye, the city's heroes sing, bird on the wing feel, feel so free through the life upon the rooftop haze, all the cheating and the broken days. So through it all I see there's nothing left for me."

Unbeknownst to Holly, Tony Stark stood outside the door into the brightly lit laboratory and peered into the window. She was listening to music, some serious prog rock if he correctly guessed the tune, he noticed as he quietly opened the door. Once he noticed the burner was on and she didn't react at all to him opening the door, he knew he had to get her attention or she'd burn herself.

"So I will stay, I'll not be back, Eldorado. I will be free of the world, Eldorado. Sitting here on top of everywhere, what do I care. Days never end, I know the voyage's end will soon be here, no eternal life is here for me. And now I found the key to the eternal dream," Holly sang as she swayed in time to the music. Her grey yoga pants were neatly tucked into the top of her tan UGG boots, doing nothing to hide the shape of her legs from the playboy's view. Her oversized blue Beatles shirt hung loosely around her frame, almost entirely covering her backside.

Tony shook his head, a shame, as he set the bags down on the stone countertop of a nearby lab bench. He watched as she gently picked up the scorching crucible, pouring the contents into a dish and began staring at it. He took that moment as his cue to knock on the cabinet above the bench.

She ripped the white earbuds out of her ears and whirled around at the sound of knuckles meeting wood. Placing a hand over her heart in a vain attempt to slow her breathing, she turned off the iPod and set it safely away from her experiment. Her eyes never left the well-dressed man in front of her. "Mister Stark," she began warily. "You scared the hell out of me."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pinstripe suit pants. "Tony, please. You watched me bury 'Mister Stark'. Besides, didn't I tell you then to call me Tony?"

Grabbing a pair of tweezers, she reached into the dish and pulled out the now hardened polymer and set it on a sterile piece of gauze. "That was almost fifteen years ago,  _ Tony _ ," she said, emphasizing his name as she carried the gauze to a scale.

He rolled his dark eyes. "Don't I know it," he muttered. "If I understand things correctly, and I usually do, you're supposed to be at Café La Boheme down on Santa Monica Boulevard right about now having your first legal glass of wine with your loving grandparents and myself. Instead, you're in a dismal lab working on a project? That's not a good excuse at all," he quipped, beginning to unload the bags. "I mean, if you want to blow off the family, that's fine. But I'm beginning to think that you just don't like me. I'm deeply wounded, you know."

She rolled her eyes and continued to work. "This project is due Friday. I've got to get it done."

"Lemme guess," Tony interjected as he continued setting up the nearby lab bench like a dinner table. "If this polymer you're working on works out the way you hope, you're going to get more than just a good grade, right?"

Holly dropped the piece onto the scale and turned to face the unwanted intruder, hand on her hip. "What are you doing here, Tony?" she asked impatiently. "I've got work to do."

"If you couldn't get to the restaurant, I thought I'd bring the restaurant to you." He stepped back to reveal several to-go dishes, a bottle of champagne, and two flutes. "That way, I can eat, you can eat, and I don't feel like you're blowing me off."

Despite herself, she smiled. Here was a man who by all rights shouldn't care at all. In truth, she wasn't trying to blow anyone off. This project meant so much that she didn't really even have time to go out for her own birthday. Her anger quickly dissipated by the tempting smell of food.

"I didn't know what you wanted, but I've never met a woman that turned down seared sea scallops." He smiled when her stomach began to growl. "And I'm guessing that I'm not too far off the mark. And as for why I'm here, if you're anything like me, you start working and completely forget to eat. I've got an assistant to remind me, but even then I don't always remember." Tony grabbed the bottle of Moët and began to pull back the foil.

She turned back to the scale to retrieve her material, knowing full well that she wasn't apt to get much more work done tonight. Her breath caught in her throat and her hand flew to cover her open mouth. 1.527 grams. Her experiment had worked. The weight of the material was spot on with her calculations of its yield (and hopefully strength).

The loud bang of the cork popping out of the bottle echoed through the almost empty lab. He poured two glasses of champagne and opened the to-go box prepared for him – steak with garlic mashed potatoes, glazed green beans, and balsamic steak sauce. Just as he was about to sit down, he happened to see the younger woman darting across the room in a tan, grey, and blue blur, only to have her wrap her arms around his neck. "I take it whatever you were working on just clicked?"

She nodded shyly, slowly removing her body from his person. Shit, that man smelled good. And of course, he looked absolutely delectable in that black pinstriped suit. Maybe being set up with him wasn't a bad thing. She had no idea why, but leaping into Tony Stark's arms in joy seemed like a perfectly acceptable response to her possibly discovering a lighter substance with the ability to be woven into fabrics that would eliminate the need for armored plating in uniforms. That was an achievement, right? There was also the matter of thanking him for bringing a five-star restaurant to her lab for no other reason than he knew what it was like to forget to eat… "Something like that," Holly acknowledged with a smile, blushing slightly as Tony pulled out a battered old stool and motioned for her to sit.

"Then you can tell me all about it while we have Café La Boheme in a materials science lab." He handed her one of the now full champagne flutes. "Happy birthday to the woman that might keep me in business if her little experiment is anything like what I think it is," he toasted with a wink, touching the rim of his glass to hers before taking a generous swig.

The pair fell into an easy conversation about the theory she was testing. The basic steps would more than suffice for her assignment, but with further experimentation and a bigger lab, she postulated that she could use her result to make an extremely durable and lightweight uniform for soldiers. The only person she'd been able to talk to about what she was doing in school was her grandfather, but even then, a lot of these newer techniques and newer technology went above and beyond his education. He'd left future development to the "young bucks" down in R&D before she was even born. Unlike her grandmother, her grandfather was immensely proud that his late son and daughter-in-law had produced such a smart child.

"Once you get that little hunk of material refined, you ought to bring it over sometime. We'll tool around with it and see if we can't get enough fabric made for me to shoot something at," Tony caught himself offering before he could stop himself, finishing off the remnants of his mashed potatoes and green beans. He quickly closed up the box and stuffed it back into one of the bags.

Holly broke out into a wide smile, looking more like a five-year-old whose parent just promised them their favorite toy than a twenty-one-year-old college senior who may have just made a breakthrough in uniform fabrics. "I'd really like that, but I'm not sure if I'd want it in Stark Industries' labs…"

"Of course not. It'd be on my private server in my lab at home. Your grandfather would rip me limb from limb if I let your first development go to my company," he said softly, pouring her the last bit of the champagne. As she gently sipped the bubbly liquid, he deposited the remnants of her long-finished meal into the bag as well.

"I-I should probably clean up," she said as she did her best not to let on that the combination of the champagne and the suddenly immensely attractive man that brought dinner was beginning to get to her. Jumping off the stool, she quickly disassembled the apparatus that held the crucible above the flame and shoved it into her drawer. Once the crucible was suitably cleaned, it joined its companions in the wooden drawer as well. As she wiped down her work area after tucking the piece of black polymer into a Ziploc bag in her messenger bag, the distinct smell of Tony Stark – a combination of fine scotch, a hint of a cigar, and absolutely intoxicating cologne – assaulted her nose. He was definitely very close behind her.

"You missed a spot," he offered in the form of a husky whisper in her ear, slowly taking the wet towel from her tiny hand after placing one hand on either side of her hips. She definitely needed to get those acrylic nails touched up, but the sudden desire to suck on that obvious pulse point on the side of her neck made him forget. Quickly wiping away at an imaginary spot of dirt, he put the towel back in her hand. He knew that his touch lingered much longer than it should have, but it didn't matter. He was soon rewarded with the shorter woman turning around between his arms.

"T-Tony, what is this?" she whispered, trying in vain to protest. When she could feel his breath on her lips, she realized she didn't want to protest anymore.

"You  _ have _ heard of a birthday kiss, haven't you?" he asked, gently pressing her up against the cool stone of the counter behind her as he slid his left knee between her legs. At her nod, he slowly pressed his lips to hers before sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

Before she could stifle it, she let out a soft whimper against his kiss. Holly quickly found herself fisting her hands in the lapels of his suit jacket, deepening the kiss with a quick flick of her tongue. She felt herself being lifted up to sit on the counter top, when suddenly her hipbone made sharp contact with the corner of the open adjacent drawer. She broke the kiss quickly and looked down to make sure nothing was seriously injured. When her eyes met Tony's again, she laughed softly. "I… We can't continue this in here."

"Mmm. And just what are you suggesting, madam?" Tony growled before attaching his lips to that pulse point he'd been admiring earlier.

Holly threw her head back in a sudden rush of pleasure and threaded her fingers through the dark hair at the nape of his neck. "I-I mean that there are too many sharp objects here, a-and on top of that, I don't exactly relish the thought of getting caught…" Realizing his mouth was now at that patch of skin below her ear, she gasped. "W-We need to get out of here."

"And just where do you suggest we go?"

The abrupt absence of his warm lips on her skin caused her neck to break out in patches of goose bumps. She shouldn't even suggest out loud what her traitorous brain was suggesting. She should not, under any circumstances, invite Anthony Edward Stark back to her apartment. The rational side of her mind began listing the laundry list of reasons why it was beyond a bad idea, but the chemicals exploding in her pleasure center were shouting from the rooftops that it was the best idea she'd ever had in her life, better than her theory for that piece of black mass in her bag. "M-My apartment isn't too far away. T-Take me to my car so I can drive it home, then follow me there."

He quickly lifted his head, their lust-darkened eyes met once more. "Lead on, Mac Duff."

When her alarm clock began shrieking at her at 8:15 am, Holly groaned loudly. As she slowly opened her eyes, she began wondering how in the world her inner thighs were sore and her throat hurt. Peeling back the covers and seeing her own naked form, it all came flooding back to her. She, Holiday Rae Morgan, had spent a glorious evening with Tony Stark. She shook her head with a pleased smile, raising an eyebrow when she caught sight of a tented piece of printer paper with her name on it perched on the other bed pillow. She reached over and unfolded it with a smile.

_ Holly, _

_ I must say, this is the first time in a long time that a woman has taken  _ _ me _ _ home. This is largely due to the fact that I prefer to sneak off to my work area in the basement and just wait for them to leave. I can't do that very well at someone else's house. Why am I telling you this? I have no idea. Speaking of taking me home, I must say Morgan, that was a beyond spectacular rendition of "Birthday Sex". Normally, I'm not one for encore performances, but in your case I may make an exception. _

_ Now, I happen to know that you are free this Friday night. (You really shouldn't leave your planner open, especially when I personally know that you completed that nice little experiment last night.) Be at my house in Malibu at 7 and bring your new little piece of material. I've got a bottle of scotch with our names on it. _

_ Tony _

 

Three days later, Holly pulled up into Tony's driveway. She nervously shifted her late model BMW into park. Just as before, the rational side of her brain was screaming, questioning why in the world she would come. Once again, the hormones swimming around her brain kept telling her she would be a fool not to come. There weren't many people that could virtually give her a limp just from one fun-filled night. She mentioned to her grandfather that Tony came to see her in the lab, but neglected to mention any subsequent activities. The man may be eighty-six, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to flay Stark the Younger alive. When he asked if Tony brought her anything for her birthday, she simply said "dinner". She didn't even dare to mention the kiss. Her grandmother would have a field day with it.

Using the number provided three days earlier, she'd texted Tony and mentioned that she'd never been much of a one for scotch, but if he was willing to make an exception, she could too. They'd continued to message each other back and forth over the next couple of days. Earlier that same day, he had the audacity to ask what kind of underwear she would be wearing so they wouldn't match. She'd replied that she liked how he was assuming he was going to get to see whatever she decided to throw on. In typical Tony fashion, he simply replied "What was that I said about an encore performance?"

She skipped class for the first time in her academic career at UCLA to pick out an outfit. After an hour and a half of showering, makeup application, and straightening her curly hair while mentally combing through her entire wardrobe, she decided on a pair of dark skinny jeans, black stilettos, and a black sweater with three-quarter length sleeves that came down to the middle of her thighs. As for the underwear that Tony was so concerned about, she made a special trip to purchase a red balconet push-up bra and a matching thong.

With shaking breath, she killed the engine and grabbed her purse from the passenger seat. She reached into the large black hobo bag to make sure she hadn't forgotten her unnamed material. Sure enough, it was there, tucked safely in its plastic bag. She couldn't help but wonder just how much work they'd be doing. She exited the car and made her way up the handful of steps to the front door. Before she could knock, the door opened to reveal Tony Stark. She had to stop her jaw from dropping at the sight of a very dressed down version of the CEO. He sported a simple white tee shirt, dark blue jeans, and tennis shoes.

"See something you like?" he asked before moving to the side and ushering her into the mansion.

Clutching her purse strap, Holly turned back to face him with an astonished grin. "I-I've never seen you  _ not _ wearing a suit," she admitted shyly as he closed the door behind them.

"Did you bring your piece of…whatever you're going to call it?" he inquired with an adventurous grin on his face, quickly wiping the remaining engine gunk from his fingernails onto his jeans. Surely she'd never notice.

She quickly began to fumble through her bag for the Ziploc bag that was just sitting on the top. Her heart began to pound at the palpable awkwardness of the situation. She closed her eyes when she felt him approach her from behind and put his hands on her hips. When she finally found it, she handed it over to the genius with a shaking hand.

He gleefully snatched the plastic bag out of her hand before gently kissing her cheek. "Let's take this downstairs, let JARVIS start working his magic on it, and we can…"

"Jarvis?" she questioned, turning around in his arms to face him. "Who in the hell is Jarvis? Sounds like the name of a British butler."

"JARVIS, would you please say hello to Holly Morgan?" Tony called, looking up at the ceiling of the massive living room.

"Hello, Miss Morgan. Are you by any chance related to the Morgans of Morgan Defense and Armor?" a disembodied voice from the ceiling spoke suddenly, causing Holly to latch onto Tony rather tightly.

"Y-Yes I am," she stuttered, still holding tightly to the white tee shirt. She suddenly smelled that distinctly Tony smell from the other night, this time combined with a hint of sweat. She knew she was done for. Her bed had smelled just like that for twenty-four hours. She had an overwhelming desire to forget the polymer and insist Tony take her again right there in the living room before he grabbed her left hand and dragged her down the stairs to his garage slash laboratory.

Tony stopped only to punch a code into the numbered buttons that appeared in the middle of the glass. Opening the door, he pulled her inside and let go of her hand. He walked over to a cluster of computer screens, plunked down her piece of material, and barked some commands at the ceiling before turning back to her. He couldn't help but laugh as she stood in the doorway, mouth agape, staring at the open room. "I think you and I are more alike than I thought, Morgan. Are you staring at the computers or the cars?"

"Cars," she said with a laugh, bringing her index finger up to her mouth and biting the newly filled in acrylic nail coyly as she stared at the dark blue Shelby Cobra across the vast room. "Cobra."

"Good eye." As JARVIS began scanning the polymer to create fabric, Tony crossed the room again quickly, scooping Holly up in his arms and began carrying her back up the stairs. "Can you drive a stick?"

"Nope. I don't have the slightest idea."

A deep rumbling laugh began coming from Tony's chest. "This is going to be fun," he said before leaning down and stealing a quick kiss.


	4. Chapter Three

 

_ A man lost in time, _

_ Near KaDeWe. _

_ Just walking the dead. _

_ Where are we now? _

 

Holly sat calmly at her glass-topped desk, thankful that her computer screen faced the wall behind her. Thanks to Coulson's thought out "design input", all she had to do now was wait for the computer in the back to finish fabricating Captain Rogers's suit. Hopefully it would finish soon. Her warm flannel sheets on her bed were calling her name rather loudly. She rapidly rotated between the left and right mouse buttons as the virtual playing cards zoomed to their proper places between sips of coffee. Out of the corner of her brown eye, she happened to see Captain Rogers rounding the corner, seemingly searching for their fearless leader. She quickly minimized the window containing her game, suddenly unable to stifle a yawn.

Steve Rogers exited the elevator and cautiously approached her desk, unsure of why she was smiling at him. "D-Do you know if the Director is in, ma'am?" he asked cautiously after clearing his throat.

She quickly reached under her desk and pulled out a large brown paper bag, clutching it to her chest as she stood up. "While I'm refreshed by your manners, Captain, I believe that I told you when I showed you to your apartment not to 'ma'am' me."

"M-Miss Morgan, I'm sorry…"

She laughed softly, reassuring him that she wasn't mad for his slip. After all, what was that bit from  _ Pirates of the Caribbean _ when Elizabeth asked Will how many more times must she ask him to call her Elizabeth instead of Miss Swann, only for him to respond with "Once more" or something like that? Manners are still wonderful. "But to answer your question, no, he's not in. He'll be out watching Project Pegasus for the next couple of days. Is there anything I can help you with though?"

Steve shook his head with a shy smile. "No, I don't think so. I guess I'll be on my way. Thank you, though." A split second after he turned to leave, he heard the distinct clicking of high heels on the marble floor just before feeling a petite hand on his broad shoulder. "Is there anything I can do for  _ you _ , Miss Morgan?"

"Yes, actually," Holly said matter-of-factly, pressing the bag into the soldier's arms. "It dawned me as I was leaving your apartment last week that you had a record player and only two records. I listen to more than that in a day." She unrolled the top of the bag, revealing a dozen or so records and pointed inside. "The Piaf, Vera Lynn, Beethoven, and Marilyn Monroe ones are mine. I had a feeling that you'd like them, but I couldn't find those particular ones at the record store. No rush on getting them back to me. You can keep them until you find copies of your own. The rest of them are yours to keep, however."

A wide grin burst across his face. "T-they still have record stores? I didn't see any when I was walking around." He paused and shook his head. "I thought everyone had those… Those headphones you stick in your ears." He tucked the bag up under his arm. He felt lost, but after realizing that someone else was at least a familiar with "his" technology, he felt a little better.

"You just have to know where to look," she said with a wink as she patted him on the forearm. "If you'd like me to take you to the one I like to go to, I will. And they do still make headphones that go over your ears." Holly reached back over to her desk and picked up a black rectangle. With the press of a button, the screen lit up. "It's an iPod and a phone rolled into one, an iPhone. They have good enough sound quality for walking around town, riding the bus, and that sort of thing. The songs are compressed from the original recordings, so the quality's not as good…" When she noticed him getting a somewhat glassy look in his eye, she stopped. "But the sound quality of records, especially if you have the right sound system, is beyond compare. I prefer them."

Steve turned to look out the window to the left of her desk, pondering her offer…and her. He was still a little raw about her part in the deception when he woke up, but if there was one thing he could empathize with, it was the need to follow orders from one's superior. He realized he couldn't be too mad at her. She  _ had  _ showed him a way to see all the pictures he didn't have the money to before the war from the comfort of his own sofa. He knew he would have to brave the modern movie house at some point, but he was too scared to do it alone yet. Chancing a glance in her direction, he caught her typing on the little black rectangle that everyone seemed to have nowadays, shifting his head to look back out the window before she noticed him.

The corner of his mouth turned down in contemplation as his thoughts turned to her. What was her angle? Here was this dame, Holiday Morgan, who happened to look a little like Ava Gardner if you turned your head just right. Her clothes looked like slight variations on women's styles he was already familiar with…only with some insane need to be six inches taller. When she spoke, it was nothing short of the "grace under pressure" tone that Peggy always used. Miss Morgan, as he'd observed from her interactions with Director Fury and her cool demeanor while walking him through her set of directions, was almost everything he had always been told a proper lady should be years ago…only completely comfortable in this new time. He was startled out of his thoughts by a loud series of computerized beeps from the back of the room.

Holly tugged on the bottom of her grey wool sweater dress to un-bunch it from the red patent leather belt circling her waist before tossing on her red pea coat. "I just got the rest of the day off," she announced with a cheery smile, searching for his gaze as she picked up her leather tote. "So how 'bout it, Captain? I'll even buy you a cup of coffee." Stepping around him, she began to walk backwards towards the elevators.

Steve looked from the bag of records already under his arm, to her red pumps, then to her face. A proper lady just offered to buy him a cup of coffee.

She pushed the button to call an elevator to take her down to the lobby. "Going down, Captain." As she stepped into the elevator, she poked her head out quickly. "I promise I don't bite!" she called in a sing-song voice, smirking when he dashed into the elevator car with her.

"S-So, what kind of music do you listen to that you still buy records? I didn't think they made them anymore," he said nervously, fingering the corner of the bag.

"Let's just say records have made a comeback in recent years among the…people of my generation," she explained patiently, carefully choosing her words to avoid having to come up with an explanation for "indie rock" on the spot. It'd be like explaining The Black Keys to her late grandfather. "But to answer your question, I listen to all sorts of things. One of the biggest things I think you've missed is the evolution of music. So many genres to choose from now. Maybe if I don't scare you away," Holly began as she exited the elevator in the lobby and dug around in her bag for her sunglasses. "I'll let you into my living room so you can see my collection for yourself."

Steve picked up his pace, making sure to beat her to the door. Holding the heavy glass door open for her, the late winter wind began rushing at him. Once she exited ahead of him, he plunged his hands into the warmth of his leather jacket pockets. The bag of records she'd given him was safely tucked up under his left arm. Without removing his hand from his pocket, he offered her his right arm without thinking. When she looked up at him in shock, he winced. Was chivalry dead? Had that gone, too?

Her initial shock quickly changed into a huge smile. "The last person who offered me their arm," she said, looping her left hand around his arm, "was my grandfather after my college graduation."

He stopped walking and looked down to see her neatly manicured fingers sliding down into the leather folds keeping the crook of his elbow warm. "Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm more than a little old-fashioned, ma'am."

"I'm going to tell you this once more, Captain, it's Holly." With a gentle tug on his arm, she began leading him off towards the record store. "And besides, I wasn't complaining about 'old-fashioned'. I rather like it. I wonder sometimes how we got away from it." She chuckled.

"And if I'm to call you Holly," he added quickly, "then I'm Steve."

"It's nice to meet you, Steve," she replied with a laugh. A gust of cold wind blew between two buildings, causing Holly to pull herself tighter to the soldier to try to stay warm. She motioned for him to turn off West 47th Street and up Broadway.

As they approached Colony Music Center, she motioned for Steve to hand over the bag of records. She couldn't help but smile when he held the door open for her again. "What's happening, Colony Charlie?" she called over the steady beat of mid-Nineties hip hop filling the store, moving her head in time to the beat when she realized what song was playing.

"Coco Chanel!" the burly redheaded man replied enthusiastically from behind the counter. "Getting off early again, I see." He peered around his regular customer and caught sight of her shopping companion.

Holly shrugged. "Boss is out of town." She gingerly placed the brown paper bag on the corner of the counter. "Hold that for me, will you?" When he gave her a thumbs-up and put the bag behind the counter, she looped her arm back through Steve's and began to lead him into the shelves of records.

"Coco Chanel?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. "Even I know who that is." His arm slowly dropped hers as his eyes widened. There had to be thousands of records here. He probably was familiar with about ten of them, but the choices were endless. There had to be something in here that would be right up his alley.

She stopped in front of the bin marked "new releases" and began to thumb through the titles as she hummed along to Montell Jordan's "This Is How We Do It". "I always pay in cash, and I won't tell him my name. Plus, the first time I came in here, I had my Chanel logo earrings in," she said with a shrug. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Steve running his calloused fingers over the spines of various records in the "B" section. Still perusing, she began swaying her hips and softly singing along.

Finally pulling a selection off the shelf, Steve gazed at the mostly blue cover interspersed with black and white photos of four men he didn't recognize. He'd seen a girl of no more than sixteen wearing a shirt advertising what he assumed to be the name of the band the previous day. He knew that he could have easily looked the band up on the shiny computer that Holly had left in his apartment for him, but he never got around to it. Feeling a gentle pressure on his forearm, he turned and saw Holly smiling at him.

"The Beatles? Wow. You're skipping a little bit of music history there." She pointed at the title of the album he'd found,  _ A Hard Day's Night _ . "Great album, don't get me wrong. I own a copy, so you can borrow it before you buy."

An hour later, Steve had managed to not only find a handful of records to add to his collection and remember his pin number when it came time to purchase them. The Johnny Cash records Holly knew he would like. Adele? The more she thought about music he would be familiar with from before he went down, the more she realized that at least as far as music was concerned, he would be alright.

Pulling her vibrant coat tighter around her as they exited the store, she grinned. "I believe I promised you a cup of coffee, soldier."

He quickly shoved both bags of records beneath his left arm and extended his right toward her. "I believe you did."

"I promise nothing bad will happen if I walk without holding onto you. The last thing you want is to drop those records all over the sidewalk." Holly eyed him readjusting the teetering bags carefully.

Once the bags were situated, he raised an eyebrow and tried not to smile. "I've balanced three dames on a motorcycle. I can handle two bags of records."

"Well if you insist…"

"I do." He found himself unable to hold back a smile any longer when she finally looped her arm back through his mid-stride. "So where are we headed?"

"Make for Grand Central." She chanced a sideways glance at him, she felt her heart warm a little when his face lit up. "It's still in the same place."

"I went for a walk before you took me to my apartment when I couldn't sleep. I saw it."

"Well then I guess you don't need me," she said with a tone of mock offense, snatching her arm away.

"P-Please, that's not what I meant!" Steve exclaimed as he reached out to grab her hand. A confused look crossed his face when Holly burst into laughter.

"Steve, I was kidding." She returned to his side, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "I mean, I know there was a war going on, but people still made jokes, right?" The look on his face told her that he didn't exactly appreciate her sense of humor at the moment. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Of course there were still jokes," he began with a heavy sigh. "I just haven't had a lot to joke about, let alone be happy about lately." Looking up at the blue sky dotted with clouds, he shook his head. "Of course, I say 'lately' and the last joke I remember making was in 1944."

She tilted her head to lay it on his shoulder. "I wish I could make you all kinds of promises that it'll all be okay, but I can't. I can tell you that eventually you'll hit a point where it doesn't hurt quite as badly, but that's about it. A piece of advice? Mindless comedy films where you don't really have to pay attention much and ice cream help a little."

"I'll have to remember that," he said as a hint of a smile began to form. He wasn't going to ask what happened to her, but it felt nice to have someone who understood.

"That's what friends are for." She pointed at a small café across the street from Grand Central Terminal. "Advice and coffee."

"F-Friends?"

"I just showed you the secret to my record collection, and you just admitted that I need to give you a list of my 'instantly feel better' movies and get you some Ben & Jerry's." She motioned for him to wait as she waved at a blonde waitress walking back toward the café door from the seats outside. "Beth! Where do you want us?" When the waitress pointed inside, Holly nodded and led Steve inside.

"Hey Holly!" Beth greeted with a smile as her regular guest and a friend made themselves at home at the counter, grabbing two coffee cups and the coffee carafe. Her eyes widened at the realization of who the second person at the counter was. "Wireless Radio?" she asked in disbelief. What she didn't see was Holly trying desperately to contain laughter…

* * *

The next night, Steve raised his hand to knock on Holly's door, but quickly withdrew it. As he opened and closed his right hand several times, he sighed heavily. This was definitely a new experience. Enough dames had turned him down before Project Rebirth that he had the whole spiel memorized by now. He was a nice guy, but they couldn't be a couple for one or more of a whole litany of reasons. He could just change the personal pronouns and let her down gently. Would she ever talk to him again after this? He did enjoy having someone to talk to, someone who quietly slipped him what he liked to call "new world advice"…

The door suddenly swung open, revealing Holly as she tried to stifle a grin. "Were you ever going to knock?"

He cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. "Eventually." When she shook her head and stepped aside, he finally stepped into the garden apartment. His blue eyes widened as he took in the living room and open kitchen before him. His initial shock was at the thought that just this portion of the apartment was bigger than the  _ entire _ apartment he shared with his mother as a child. The shock continued as he caught sight of the dark lacquered wood of her sofa. Art Deco! Something he recognized.

"Found that while I was finding furniture for your apartment, actually," she called from the kitchen as she stirred the mashed potatoes. "I thought 'What the hell, I could use a new sofa', so I picked that up for me."

"It's beautiful." Crouching down to look in the bookshelf ends of the piece, Steve quickly realized that while the sofa was almost as old as he was, the books were not.  Introduction to Polymer Physics ?  Introduction to Polymer Chemistry ?  Fundamentals of Materials Science and Engineering: An Integrated Approach ?  Diffusion and Diffusion-Controlled Reactions ? What in the world was a "polymer"? He'd need a dictionary to talk to her.

Something was definitely on his mind. Not that he'd exactly said a ton during their previous encounters, but he was acting about as nervous as a high-strung cat in a new house. Should she have not opened the door and let him knock on his own time? She shook her head and made her way over to the small, glass-topped oak kitchen table, balancing a hefty bowl of mashed potatoes in one hand and a bottle of wine and two glasses in the other. Once the bowl had been placed next to the pork chops, she motioned for him to come sit down.

She sat down across the table from him, trying desperately to get some kind of idea of what was bugging him. The desire to understand suddenly dissipated when he suddenly began maintaining radio silence after the first bite of food. Maybe the food would loosen his lips.

Once his plate had been thoroughly cleaned, Steve sat his silverware down and folded his hands in his lap. It was now or never. "Holly, I'm sorry."

She raised an eyebrow, looking skeptically across the table at her guest. "Sorry for what?"

"I'm not ready to uh…be with anyone yet."

"What does that have to do with the price of eggs?" Holly questioned, now more confused than ever. She began to do a quick mental check of all her actions since she'd donned the uniform and told him he was in a recovery room in New York City. What brought this on?

"Y-You cooked all of this," he said, motioning at the generous spread of pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls. "…and invited me over. It's just the two of us…"

Holly quickly clapped a hand over her mouth and nose when an unwelcome burning sensation began rising in her nasal passages. She'd never shot wine out of her nose before, but there was always a first time for everything. "You thought…" She paused and motioned between them. When he nodded in an attempt to hide the rising blush, she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. "Oh my god. Steve, I'm so sorry."

Now, it was Steve's turn to be utterly confused. "So you're not…"

"No," she blurted almost too quickly. "I'm sure you'd be a great catch for  _ somebody _ , but I can tell you right now that somebody isn't me. Did they have the cliché about 'it's not you, it's me'…before?"

"There was an equivalent," he admitted sadly. It'd been used on him many times. What was one more time?

Holly took a long sip from her wine glass. "I can't lie and say that part of it is the fact that you were in Europe in the Second World War with my late  _ grandfather _ . I've dated men who were older than me before, but not quite that much older." When he cracked a small smile, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs at the ankles. "The rest of it, though... You don't want to hear it."

"If you’re willing to tell me, I’ll listen. We  _ are _ friends after all."

She began to absentmindedly twirl a dark ringlet around her left index finger, letting out a soft sigh. The answer he wanted, and probably deserved, was going to involve divulging things she'd only recently begun to admit to herself. "Before I moved to New York, I was involved with someone for two years." A sudden smile crossed her face as the memory of perhaps the most unforgettable first date ever came rushing back. "I was happier than I'd ever been. We were inseparable."

"So what happened?" He'd known this curious girl for not quite two weeks, and this was the first time she'd ever mentioned any personal details about her life before she moved to the Big Apple apart from how she knew the Starks. Something had to have gone horrifically wrong for her there. As soon as the question had left his lips, her smile faded away, leaving only a pair of dark eyes threatening to well up with tears.

“A few months before we broke up, I heard a rumor about him. I-I believed it. I was planning to leave him. Then, uh...he went away unexpectedly for a while,” Holly confessed as her voice began to crack, leaving the exact details up to Steve's imagination. "When he got back to California… I thought he needed me. I couldn’t leave him. He’d changed. The man that I loved was still there, but he'd taken the world onto his shoulders. He tried to make something to help with the horrors... I left." She couldn't help but feel slightly amused that Steve was paying that close of attention to her story…or that he even cared at all. "Even though I'm the one who chose to leave, he left a pretty big hole to fill. I've dated other people since, but I find myself comparing every single one of them to  _ him _ ."

"Sadly, that's something I can relate to," he commiserated with a sad smile as he moved some food around on his plate.

"Peggy?"

He nodded, idly running his finger up and down the handle of his fork. "So why did you invite me here?"

"Because you looked like you could use a friend about as much as I do."

"You've been here four years. You can't tell me that you don't…"

"I don't have many in New York. I got a reputation in California, and it followed me here." When Steve began to look concerned, she waved him off. "It's nothing bad. I'm not a wanted fugitive or anything. It seems like everyone knows about it. Even Agent Coulson, someone I consider a friend, knows about it. He's never brought it up, but he still knows. Hell, I'm sure even you'll find out about it one day, but until then, why spoil a good thing?" She raised her wine glass hopefully. "To friends?"

"To friends."

* * *

_ March 15, 2006 _

_ 5:00 pm _

_ Malibu, California _

 

Tony Stark chuckled softly as he looked out the window to see a familiar BMW pulling up in front of his house. Three weeks had passed since he met Holly Morgan in her UCLA lab on her birthday. They'd seen each other the following weekend…and the one after that. Last week, he called the younger blonde saying that he needed her help…with some "tension" that needed to be worked out. Naturally she came right over. He couldn't lie, the weekends filled with various shades of debauchery (who knew the grand piano would be a very nice place for sex?) and surprisingly some science had done wonders for his over-inflated ego. What man  _ wouldn't  _ want a pretty, smart blonde at his beck and call?

This weekend, however, he wanted to see if she would come of her own accord. They'd exchanged some flirtatious texts over the course of the week, but it had taken her more time than usual as the week went on to respond. Two hours ago, his question was answered. Holly texted him simply "I just finished a week from hell. I need to get away from everyone. Are you free?" About fifteen seconds after he replied that he was indeed free, he received a second message from her saying that she would be at his door as fast as she could physically make it there.

When he opened the door, he didn't see the bright and bubbly girl that had come the past two weekends. This girl struggled to pull her oversized tote bag across the console, slammed her car door, and walked slowly toward him with a tired smile. "Morgan, you look like you're about to fall down."

"Week from hell, remember?" she reminded gently through a yawn. "I've slept about four hours in two days."

As she walked past him and into the house, he pulled her bag from off her shoulder and began to carry the pink paisley print monstrosity the rest of the way, wondering why in the world she decided to come all the way out to Malibu when she clearly needed to pass out somewhere comfortable, like in her own bed.

Holly quickly pulled her Blackberry from the back pocket of her dark jeans, removed the battery cover, and yanked out the battery before tossing all three pieces into the pile of papers poking out of her bag. "We're the only two people who know where I am right now. My phone is off. I don't want to talk to anyone else."

He dropped the bag to the floor, failing to suppress a wide grin when a pile of papers containing various kinds of notes and charts. "Nice filing system."

"And before you dropped it, I knew where everything was! Don't make fun of my filing system."

Before she could stop him, Tony picked the bag back up and began to drag her downstairs to his garage-slash-work area. "I am going to put this bag down here where you can't think about it. Then, we're going to go out and get you liquored up so you'll relax."

Holly tried to wriggle out of his grasp as he quickly punched in a code for the heavy glass door in front of them, groaning when she failed. "Tony, we don't need to go anywhere. We can't."

Dropping the bag onto his work table, he spun around to face her and folded his arms across his chest. "And just why in the hell not?"

She flopped down into one of the swivel chairs nearby and covered her face with her hands. "Because you get your picture taken wherever you go, and that's the last thing I need right now. I can't have any of my professors, especially the ones I'm defending to, think that you did one ounce of this work for me." She let out an exasperated sigh when he began to laugh. "And just what is so funny?"

"You're about to finish a masters at twenty-one. You're capable of much more than this, trust me," he said, pointing over at her bag. "You don't need me to do any work for you."

"Please Tony, not now. You can parade me up and down Rodeo Drive in a bikini for all I care…after I've got that piece of paper in my hand come June." When Tony gave her a knowing grin that was silently asking if she was serious, she glared at him. "You know what I mean." The man really was incorrigible.

Sitting down in the other swivel chair, Tony pulled out a handful of papers from her bag. As he quickly scanned her notes on the polymer she created in the lab (and JARVIS fabricated enough of it for her to have a good sized sample to make into a long sleeved shirt), he couldn't help but be impressed. In three weeks, she'd done every possible test to the polymer she'd since named "Ghost". She tested the tensile strength of the individual fibers. She'd even taken a second swatch of material to a shooting range and calculated impact resistance. Her notes were so detailed, she might want to keep an eye on her bag just in case that annoying prick Hammer decided to get too close to her. "You know, it is downright sexy how smart you are. We should totally get you some black plastic-framed glasses and do a sexy-librarian thing…" He stopped abruptly when she reached up and snatched her notes away, shoving them back in her bag.

"I told you I had the week from hell. I'm so nervous about defending this that I spend every day trying not to throw up. I came to spend some time with you because not only have you proven that it is possible to fuck the tension right out of someone, but I happen to enjoy talking to someone who doesn't talk down to me that can understand what these notes mean. I'm not really in the mood for sexy-librarian right now." She closed her brown eyes and began massaging her temples in an attempt to diffuse the headache that she fought the entire car ride to Malibu.

Using his heels as both the gas pedal and the brake, he rolled his chair behind hers. He wrapped his arms around her stomach and placed his chin on her shoulder, letting his head loll over and rest against hers. "When do you defend?"

"April twenty-seventh," she answered in a wavering voice, moving her hands to hold his in an effort to seek comfort.

"Plenty of time to get your presentation down. If you need somebody to run it by, don't hesitate to call, okay?" When he felt her head nod against his, he closed his eyes and held her a little tighter. "You're going to be fine," he whispered in an un-Tony-like voice of reassurance.

"So between you and my grandfather, I've got two people in my corner," she scoffed, letting out a nervous laugh.

"What about  _ Barbara _ ?" he asked, placing sarcastic emphasis on Holly's grandmother's name.

"You're joking, right? The woman who said that everything I've done since I was sixteen was to spite her and that being a housewife like  _ her _ daughters was what was best for me?" She shook her head. "I just really want to prove to her especially that I can do something that none of the rest of the old boy's club can do."

"I've got faith in you." Tilting his head upwards, he placed a gentle kiss on the corner of her jaw. He smiled when she shuddered as his facial hair tickled the side of her neck. "I may know a little something about trying to live up to and impress your family. So if you ever need to vent…"

She quickly rotated the chair so she faced him, relief written all over her face that  _ someone _ finally understood. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. Just as she began to lift her head to offer her thanks, she felt a now familiar pair of arms fold back around her middle to pull her squarely into Tony's lap. When she looked into his eyes, a look of mutual understanding passed between them. Holly began inching her lips closer and closer to his.

Tony let one hand rest on the small of her back and let the other wander upwards, tangling in her long blonde hair. After what felt like an eternity, he craned his neck upwards and captured her lips with his. All the previous kisses they shared had been frenzied, frantic, and desperate for more. This one… This one was definitely different, he decided when she sighed softly into the kiss. A sigh. Not a moan, but a soft and contented sigh. Could it be that Tony Stark inspired something else in this petite woman other than pure unadulterated lust? When he noticed that she hadn't made a move to take any of his clothes off (and he hadn't made one to remove any of hers), he suddenly felt like a horny teenager in a make-out session. Of course, he spent a portion of his horny teenage years at MIT…

A good portion of the women who had come and gone over the years looked at his possessions, the cars mostly, and got this look in their eyes that he would buy them something just as expensive…simply because he could. Sure, Holly had stared at the cars (especially the brand new Tesla Roadster and the classic Cobra), but the look in her eyes was completely different. If she had batted her eyes at her grandfather just right, he probably would have bought her almost any one of the cars she could ask for. The only questions she asked about them were about what, if any, modifications he'd made or the efficacy of the newest type of ceramic disc brake in the Audi. Sure, she may be a chemical genius like her old man and his old man before him, but the fact that she could intelligently talk to him about the new lithium-ion battery in the aforementioned Roadster intelligently and smoothly… He'd be lying if he said he wasn't mildly aroused.

Holly broke the kiss slowly. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his, letting out a slow breath.

When she whispered "thank you" so softly it was barely audible to the billionaire, he just smiled and breathed deeply, savoring the moment. Just this once, words weren't necessary. This was definitely the start of something awesome.


	5. Chapter Four

_ So you will please say hello _

_ To the folks that I know _

_ Tell them I won't be long _

_ They'll be happy to know that as you saw me go _

_ I was singing this song. _

_ We'll meet again. _

_ Don't know where, don't know when. _

_ But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day… _

 

Shutting the plastic door of the overhead storage compartment once his suitcase was firmly in place, Steve sat down in the empty leather seat in first class by the window. He was silently thankful to Holly that she made sure he had the window seat so he could look out…and see that he was taking off and landing normally, not crashing.

Holly sat down in the seat in the row next to Steve. She quickly shoved her oversized purse under the seat in front of her and flipped the switch to put her iPhone into airplane mode. Adjusting herself in the blue and white seat, she buckled her seatbelt and leaned her head back on the headrest.

She chanced a quick glance at her traveling companion and smiled sadly. Steve had clearly tried to follow her lead and buckle the seatbelt, but was having a difficult time. Without saying a word, she reached over the armrest and fastened the buckle for him. The gesture earned her a flustered offer of thanks after her knuckles accidentally brushed over the black metal of his belt buckle.

As the young blonde flight attendant began demonstration of the oxygen mask, Holly watched out of the corner of her eye as her friend began picking nervously at his already short fingernails. When a thought hit her like a sack of bricks just as the plane began to taxi down the runway, she reached over and snatched Steve's right hand away from his left to stop him from drawing blood. The last time he was consciously on an airplane…things didn't quite go his way. She probably should have given him some kind of pep talk, explained the physics of flight and exactly how safe air travel had become since he last flew. Maybe "safe" wasn't the word to use. Eddie Rickenbacker was reluctant to ever use the word "safe" when it came to air travel…and he wasn't just the owner Eastern Airlines, he was America's most successful fighter ace in the First World War. "You'll be fine."

He closed his eyes as the force of the plane beginning to take off pushed his head back into the headrest. "It's not the takeoff that worries me."

Holly stretched awkwardly across the armrest and dropped her chin onto his right shoulder as the plane continued to climb upwards through the low-hanging clouds. "I'll be right here the whole time, okay?" At his nod, she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "If you need  _ anything _ , even if I fall asleep, just ask."

Steve cocked an eyebrow at the petite brunette. "You can sleep during this?"

"I uh… I used to fly a lot before I got on with S.H.I.E.L.D., actually. You get used to it." She released his hand and reached down into her purse, pulling out a black sleeping mask and ear plugs. "These help, too," she said with a smile.

* * *

Steve sighed heavily. The blue and white leather seat he'd occupied for the past seven hours since the plane took off from JFK was certainly more comfortable than the crude bench he'd sat on in Howard's plane, but he was about to go stir-crazy. He set down the hard-cover book he'd purchased to keep himself occupied on the tray table,  Vietnam at War: The History 1946-1975 after sliding his boarding pass between the pages to mark his place. He'd made it through about three hundred out of the almost nine hundred pages of the tome so far.

Peeking over at Holly out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but smile. The normally calm and collected woman he'd come to know was still fast asleep with her seat reclined. The silk sleep mask covered her brown eyes, and the yellow foam ear plugs were still firmly stuck in her ears. Her head suddenly rolled over to the right, causing her mouth to droop open and a soft snore to escape. She'd fallen asleep after quickly downing two cocktails and dinner, managing to stay asleep for four hours despite the turbulence they'd flown through two hours earlier.

Admittedly, he did try to sleep like she recommended, especially since she'd chosen an overnight flight. Their plane would land at just after ten in the morning London time, meaning his body would be on New York time and think it was just after five in the morning. His nerves refused to let him fall asleep, a combination of being scared of the plane crashing and nervous about seeing Peggy again.

"This is your captain speaking," the male voice thick with a Southern drawl began, causing Holly to wake up with a start and Steve to snigger at her. "We are now beginning our final approach to London Heathrow. Please raise your tray tables and your seats to their full, upright position. Flight attendants, please prepare for landing."

Without removing the mask or the ear plugs, Holly's thin index finger found the button to adjust the seat back to normal. When it clicked back into place, she removed her sleep aids and shoved them back into her purse. She bit her lip when she saw Steve trying to lock the tray table back with a very shaky hand. She reached across his seat and closed the latch with one finger before sandwiching his right hand between both of hers. "Just keep swallowing to clear your ears like before," she whispered. "I promise the train ride to Winchester won't be so scary." When he smiled softly at her words of comfort, she knew he was going to be alright.

* * *

Holly stood behind Hugh Chapman as he knocked on the white wooden frame of the door leading into Peggy Clark's breakfast nook. She couldn't help but internally critique his choice of clothing for the day. Jeff Daniels circa  _ Dumb and Dumber _ called and asked for his wardrobe back. She'd already bitten back the urge to vomit when the man answered the door with a lecherous smile. Hopefully, Harry Dunne here could keep a secret.

Steve was holding back behind her, his hand gripping his friend's tightly. This was his date…seventy years too late. Could he actually go through with this?

"Gram," Hugh began slowly, entering the room with his hand still gripping the door frame. "You've got a visitor."

The now-white haired woman set down her brown ceramic coffee cup on the oak tea table as a confused look crossed her face. "I-I wasn't expecting anyone. Who is it?"

Around the corner, Holly gave Steve's hand a gentle squeeze and a reassuring smile before stepping in front of Hugh. "It's Holiday Morgan, Mrs. Clark," she said softly, clutching an oversized green canvas bag to her chest.

Peggy smiled at her old friend's granddaughter. "How many times have I asked you to call me Peggy, Holiday?"

"Almost as many times as I've insisted that I prefer to go by Holly." She began to nervously finger the strap of the bag.

She slowly pulled herself into a standing position. "Now what in heaven's name would get you out of your laboratory and onto a plane to me?"

"It seems that my employer has come across some items that might hold some…sentimental value for you." Holly began to cautiously walk over towards the small table.

"And could you not have just shipped them to me?"

She sighed heavily and reached into the bag, almost flinching when her fingers grazed the combination of cool metal and seventy-year-old leather inside. "Some things are best delivered in person," she whispered, handing the helmet to Peggy.

Reaching toward Steve's old helmet, the older woman's hand began to shake. If they'd found the helmet, they'd undoubtedly found more. "T-There was a compass. Did they find it? Or his shield?" she questioned, running her finger over the capital A above the holes cut out for Steve's impossibly blue eyes as a lone tear began to run down her wrinkled cheek.

"The shield is in New York. I'm afraid they wouldn't let me give that to you," Holly lied. "As for the compass, if they've found it, they haven't told me. The wreckage was fairly spread out…"

On the other side of the wall, Steve found himself using every ounce of his self-control not to defy his friend and run into the other room and show Peggy he was alive. He could practically hear her tears, which didn't make fighting off his own any easier.

"Do you have anything else in that bag for me?" She looked up at the younger woman who'd successfully proven her theory that any time Michael Morgan's granddaughter came into her life, someone else had died. When Holly shook her head, Peggy nodded. "Then I'll offer my thanks to you for travelling all this way to give this to me and ask to be alone for a while."

As the older woman turned to hide the downpour of tears, Holly closed the distance between them and put a hand on her shoulder. "I don't have anything else in the bag, Peggy, but I have one more thing for you that wouldn't fit in it." She took Peggy's hand in hers, gently pulling her toward the door frame.

"Holiday, I would really prefer to be alone. I don't need any more surprises today."

With her back against the thick door molding, she reached around and quickly grabbed Steve's hand, now clammy with anticipation. "This is a surprise you'll want to get. Trust me," Holly said, jerking Steve's hand, causing him to stumble into the room before bringing his hand into contact with Peggy's.

The old helmet dropped to the floor with a loud clang when Peggy looked up into the eyes of the man who'd almost fallen on top of her. "No," she said, withdrawing her hand. This man looked exactly like her Steve, but completely unchanged from the last time she saw him…seconds before he jumped onto Johann Schmidt's plane. "It can't be."

"It can be, and it is." Holly smiled.

A warm tear began its journey down Steve's face. He'd finally done it. He'd finally made it back to her. Her soft brown hair had turned white with age. The soft lines that were around her face seventy years earlier had grown into wrinkles. This is what he should look like today. He smiled and chuckled nervously. "Sorry I'm late."

* * *

"So my grandson tells me that Holiday Morgan arranged all this," Peggy said with a faint smile before she set down her tea cup and took a bite of her sandwich. Hugh and Holly had left an hour earlier, leaving her alone with Steve for some much needed catching up. She'd already showed him her first post-war photo album. The grandkids, she reasoned, could wait until after lunch. Airplane food hadn't improved over the years, and knowing Steve and his metabolism…he could stand to eat again. When Steve nodded from across the table, mouth full of food, she turned her head and took in a brief glance of her back garden through the open kitchen window. "I shall have to thank her properly."

Steve quickly swallowed the enormous bite of food and wiped his mouth. "I've got her phone number if you want me to…"

"No need," she said politely, cutting him off. "If I don't get to thank her before you leave, I owe her grandmother a call anyway. I can get her phone number from Barbara."

He almost dropped his fork. How small exactly was the world? He suddenly felt as if he was with Holly playing that "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" game that he still didn't fully understand (mostly due to the fact that he didn't know who Kevin Bacon was), only the game was now "Six Degrees of Holly Morgan". "How…"

"There may be almost seven billion people on the planet, but it's a small world, Steve. I met Holiday's grandparents at a conference in Paris in 1949," she laughed softly, answering his question before he could finish it. "Her grandfather ran into Howard and started talking about heaven knows what. Barbara and I scurried off to the hotel bar. She and I still talk from time to time, although I haven't seen her since Michael's funeral." Pausing, she set down her fork and stared down at her plate. "Although it seems like every time we talk, someone else has died. It's the curse of getting old. The only times I've ever seen Holiday were at funerals, first at Howard and Maria's when she was barely six years old, then at Holiday's parents' a year later, then four years ago at Michael's."

"Holly said she met Howard's son the last time she saw Howard before he died." The super-soldier cringed at the memory of the Stark offspring's sharp tongue. "I met him briefly at S.H.I.E.L.D. not too long ago, and I have no idea how she could stand to be in the same room with him, let alone be friends. He…he talked down to her like she was nothing."

Peggy quickly stifled a laugh, almost choking on her tea. Composing herself by clearing her throat, she set the cup down again. "I'm sure you're familiar with the saying about there being a fine line between love and hate."

"W-What?" Sudden memories of Howard Stark and the "fondue" incident sprang to mind.

"Judging by the fact that your jaw is about to land in your lunch, I'd hazard a guess that she neglected to tell you about  _ that _ part when she regaled you with the tale of her life." Peggy watched in amusement at the sight of Steve's wheels turning as he tried to process her insinuation.

Steve had always heard that opposites attract. His mother had often told him that, mostly to cheer him up, but he was most definitely speechless at the moment. What in the world could have attracted his friend to the flashy billionaire who was fifteen years her senior? "She didn't mention hating him. What happened?"

She shifted her gaze from her long-lost Captain to her china plate. "That isn't my story to tell, Steve."

Looking down at his mostly empty plate, he clenched his jaw before looking back up at Peggy with a touch of anger in his eyes. He'd heard about the younger Stark's propensity for alcohol-fueled parties and manic behavior from various sources. "Did he hurt her?" he asked slowly, solemnly. He would put aside his friendship with the man's late father and beat the living daylights out of him if he so much as laid a hand on his friend.

"Not to my knowledge," she replied, shaking her head. “All I know is that one day they were painting the town red. Barbara seemed to think a proposal was right around the corner. Tony had come to talk to Michael. Of course, Michael had said that it was strictly business, but…" The part of her that still subscribed to the notion that it wasn't her place to talk out of turn didn't want to say anything more because she only knew the information secondhand. The other part of her saw that look in his eye that told her everything – he knew he couldn't ask Holly about this, at least not yet.

"But?" he prodded gently.

"Then he got captured by terrorists and held in a cave for three months. When I saw Holiday at Michael's funeral…" The elder woman's face fell at the memory of seeing the previously bright, bubbly, and intelligent woman who consistently made the society pages with Tony Stark a shell of her former self. "S-She looked like she hadn't slept in months, and according to her grandmother, she hadn't. She left the funeral and sped to Malibu to see Tony. He'd just gotten back that morning. Then a month later, Tony declares himself Iron Man. A couple hours later there's a press release from Stark Industries saying that they 'grew apart and ended things mutually'."

It was suddenly all Steve could do to keep from crying. He couldn't help but think that Peggy probably went through something similar when he disappeared.

"For three months she refused to believe anyone who told her Tony was dead." A faint twinkle appeared in her eye. "Sound familiar?"

He choked out a hoarse laugh, still trying not to cry in front of the woman he still carried a torch for. "Very."

* * *

Across town, Holly flopped down on a bench just outside Winchester Cathedral and sighed. She looked down at her phone and thought about calling Phil Coulson…just to "check in". After all, that  _ is _ who she told Hugh that was calling before bolting away from him with nothing more than a "Work calling, gotta go!". Phil hadn't called her. She just played her ringtone and pretended that it was a legitimate call.

The last time that Hugh Chapman tried to make a move on her, she shut him down quickly. Really, who tries to pick up a girl at a funeral? She just shook her hand, causing the diamond tennis bracelet that Tony had given her for her birthday that year to fall back into place around her wrist and asked him what rock he'd been living under. Because not only was he trying to pick up a girl at her own grandfather's funeral service, he was trying to pick up Tony Stark's girlfriend, who in case he didn't know, had just come back from the dead. This time she didn't have a Stark card to play. So she used the next best card – the office calling.

Hopefully Steve was having a better time. The thought brought a smile to her face. He was probably hip deep in photo albums. He'd been alone with Peggy for…almost two hours. It was possible they were already on the grandkids. As she aimlessly scrolled through her contacts looking for someone she might want to talk to, she couldn't help but feel a little sad for him. The pictures she'd be showing him showed her happy with someone else, moving on. She knew that part of him would be happy that Peggy had moved on. He wouldn't have wanted her to have wasted her life.

Unlocking the screen of her phone again, she dialed Phil's number. "So, has the world ended without me?"


	6. Chapter Five

_ I felt the crossfire stitching up soldiers _

_ Into a blanket of dead, and as the night grows colder _

_ In a window back home, a Blue Star is traded for Gold. _

_ Where to begin? Let's start with the end. _

_ This black and white photo don't capture the skin _

_ When metal is churned _

_ And bodies are burned _

_ Victory earned _

_ The War was in color… _

 

Having watched all but one segment of footage on his soon-to-be teammates, Steve rolled his eyes when he saw the last unopened file – Tony Stark. Would anyone ever know if he just decided to skip this part? He felt that he already knew everything he needed to know about Howard's son. The man was arrogant, rude…

Glancing back around the quinjet, he saw Agent Coulson sitting at the computer with the headset back on. He wouldn't know if Steve just skipped the footage, would he? He sighed heavily. With his luck, there'd be some kind of alarm in the tablet that would alert the agent to the fact that he skipped a segment. He groaned as the first video segment started up, revealing a younger looking Stark standing in front of a desert mountain range.

" _ Is it better to be feared or respected? I say, is it too much to ask for both? With that in mind, I humbly present the crown jewel of the Stark Industries' 'Freedom' line. It's the first missile system to incorporate our proprietary repulsor technology. _ "

Squinting at a small block of text in the bottom left corner, the wheels in his head began to turn. He recognized the date, May 2008, from somewhere. He let out a barely audible gasp when his mind finally added two and two together. Tony had gone to do a weapons demonstration…and it took him three months to come home. This had to be the last footage taken of him before his disappearance.

" _ They say that the best weapon is the one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree. I prefer the weapon you only have to fire once. _ "

Steve paused the video, taking a moment to study the man before him. He couldn't help but smile. In that freeze-frame, he could almost see Howard. He'd never met Maria, the woman he learned from an old file that Howard married and had a child with, but at least on the outside, Tony was every bit of the man that his father was…attitude and all.

" _ That's how Dad did it, that's how America does it, and it's worked out pretty well so far. _ "

The camera panned out to reveal about a dozen soldiers with guns and some kind of stand. Intrigued, Steve couldn't help but continue to watch, if only to find out what exactly that was.

" _ Find an excuse to let one of these off the chain, and I personally guarantee the bad guys won't even wanna come out of their caves. _ "

His eyes widened when the camera zoomed in on various parts of the stand, revealing what appeared to be three streamlined bombs from his stint in combat. He let his jaw fall open at the sight of one of the three taking off on its own, splitting into pieces high in the air.

" _ Ladies and gentlemen, for your consideration... the Jericho. _ "

As Stark the Younger was pushed forward by the aftershock of the explosion, Steve watched him pull a glass out of a cooler, the cold air meeting the desert air and turning into steam.

" _ I'll be throwin' one of these in with every purchase of $500 million or more. To peace! _ "

He rolled his eyes at the younger man's sarcastic toast. The man would have been out of a job if world peace was ever achieved. Well, before he stopped making weapons that would have been the case.

The second recording opened with Tony landing in the middle of a stage in full Iron Man armor. Machines began whirring around him to dismantle the intricate metal suit as scantily clad women in strips of fabric matching the suit danced to quite possibly the worst song to ever grace his ears in front of a giant screen that read "STARK EXPO".

Glancing over the corners of the video, Steve managed to again find a date stamped in the corner of the video. This one was taken just over a year after the last one, which meant that Tony and Holly were no longer together if Peggy's timeline held up.

" _ Oh it's good to be back! _ " Tony exclaimed through a satisfied smile. " _ You missed me. I missed you too. _ " An inaudible voice shouted something to him off camera. " _ Blow something up? I already did that. _ " Finally sporting a serious expression, he began his speech. " _ I'm not saying that the world is enjoying its longest period of uninterrupted peace because of me. I'm not saying that from the ashes of captivity, never has a greater phoenix metaphor been personified in human history. I'm not saying that Uncle Sam can kick back on a lawn chair, sipping on an iced tea because I haven't come across anyone who's man enough to go toe-to-toe with me on my best day. _ "

Steve rolled his eyes. He began to quickly search his memories to try and see if he ever remembered Howard being quite this full of himself. He was struggling to find an incident, but he didn't entirely rule out the possibility. After all, he missed the rest of Howard's life after the war.

" _ Please, it's not about me. It's not about you. It's not even about us. It's about legacy. It's about what we choose to leave behind for future generations. And that's why for the next year and for the first time since 1974, the best and brightest men and women of nations and corporations the world over will pool their resources, share their collective vision, to leave behind a brighter future. It's not about us. Therefore, what I'm saying, if I'm saying anything, is welcome back to the Stark Expo. And now, making a special guest appearance from the great beyond to tell you what it's all about, please welcome my father, Howard. _ "

He felt a wave of relief wash over him when the recording didn't stop, continuing on with the recording of an older Howard talking into the camera. A lump formed in Steve's throat as he gazed at the image of his friend taken almost thirty years exactly after he went down. Just like everyone else that he knew, Howard went on to have a life after the war.

" _ Everything is achievable through technology. Better living, robust health, and for the first time in human history, the possibility of world peace. So from all of us here at Stark Industries, I would like to personally introduce you to the City of the Future. _ "

As he listened to the speech, he couldn't help but think back to the World Expo he'd attended with Bucky before the serum. They had a "City of the Future" then, too. He suddenly lost almost all interest in the speech, instead craning his neck to look out the cockpit window.

Would he and Howard still have been friends after the war if he hadn't gone down? Would he have watched Tony grow up? Would Tony have played with his and Peggy's children? If their children were older, would their daughter have babysat for little Tony? He could see it in his mind as clear as day – a teenage girl with his blonde hair and Peggy's features… He shut the daydream down just as it began to get painful and returned his attention to the tablet.

" _ Technology holds infinite possibilities for mankind, and will one day rid society of all its ills. Soon, technology will affect the way you live your life every day. No more tedious work, leaving more time for leisure activities and enjoying the sweet life. The Stark Expo. Welcome. _ "

By the time the third and final recording was starting, Steve was rather weary of Tony Stark and his overinflated ego. He was tired of being reminded of the life he didn't get. He was ready to accept whatever reprimand would come his way if anyone found out he didn't review all of the files. Just as he reached a finger up to stop the footage, he froze at the sight of a familiar face – Holly. The combination of her blonde hair and the date on the video (July 2006) made him do some quick math in his head. Not only was she still with Tony, but their relationship was in its infancy.

" _ Ghost Polymer shirt prototype three ballistic test take one _ ," she said as she stood in front of the video camera, making sure it was angled correctly.

" _ Have I ever told you how sexy it is when you talk science? _ " Tony now stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist and his lips attached to her neck.

" _ Tony, quit! _ " she squealed, failing miserably to hide her smile from the camera. " _ As soon as we're done out here, you can take me back into Vegas and have your way with me _ ." She swatted his hand away when she felt fingers ghosting over her rear.

" _ Mmm… Is that a promise _ ?"

" _ Oh my god, we're going to have to edit this tape severely. I hope there are still results on this later _ ." Holly ripped herself out of his hold and scooped up a high-powered rifle, winking at Tony as she adjusted the scope.

" _ And the only thing sexier than the science talk is you holding a gun. I can't decide whether to be extremely scared or extremely turned on _ ," the billionaire added with a knowing smirk as he pulled the slide back on his own AR-15. Positioning the butt of the rifle against his right shoulder as he lay on his stomach in the warm sand, he looked over at her and nudged her knee with his. " _ God, I love you. Remind me how I got that lucky again? _ "

" _ You say that now, but then I'll beat you at blackjack tonight and be the spawn of Satan, _ " she giggled.

" _ That was one time and it was strip blackjack, _ " he protested.

" _ It's still not my fault that you couldn't keep your eyes off of me. _ "

" _ I'll get you back for that later. _ "

" _ Oh I'm counting on it. _ " She lowered her dark sunglasses and motioned for him to follow suit as she grinned from ear to ear. " _ I love you, too. _ "

Looking down at the little indicator of time left in the video as it continued with the two lovebirds opening fire on a seemingly helpless shirt, Steve sighed heavily and looked away from the tablet. As much as he couldn't bring himself to believe that Holly and Tony had ever been in love, despite hearing it from Peggy herself, there was no way that he could deny it now. The evidence was literally right in front of his face. He quickly rewound the video, pausing it at her smile just before she returned his affection.

Something major had to have happened to turn them from two people obviously in love to her refusing to give him the time of day. Holly hinted at a rumor. Peggy had suspected infidelity. That'd do it, he reasoned. When he tried to reconcile that with the story she'd told him over dinner about the man who left a big hole to fill (he was ninety-nine percent certain that the man in question had to be Stark)… There was a piece missing there. There was something that he didn't know. He knew that it wasn't any of his business to find out, but the tactical side of his brain wouldn't stop whirring.

* * *

_ April 27, 2006 _

_ Los Angeles, California _

_ UCLA Campus _

 

Tony Stark suddenly found himself thankful for choosing tennis shoes earlier in the morning despite having a board meeting to go to. The aforementioned board meeting had run over…by an hour. It was probably still going on at the rate certain members blathered on, he mused as he walked as fast as he could while not spilling his newly acquired caramel macchiato with two extra shots of espresso from Starbucks all over himself. It wouldn't be the first time he ditched a board meeting for a woman, but it would be the first time he did it for  _ her _ . He quickly clapped a hand over the lid of the drink, almost faltering on the home stretch by spilling it as he stopped abruptly in front of the room he'd been told to go to. He'd apologize to Holly for being late once she was done.

Pulling the door open gently, he silently hoped that the old blue door wouldn't squeak. He gently guided the door shut and slid into the first seat by the door in the back. After taking a sip of his coffee, he turned his attention to the front of the room. He already knew the content of her thesis presentation almost by heart. She'd gone over it  _ multiple _ times with him in the past week. The last time she ran through it with him was the previous evening. She shook like a leaf the entire time. He knew she hadn't slept because he hadn't either. He wondered how many cups of coffee she'd had already. He didn't want to even think about how many shots of espresso she'd put in them. However this Holly in front of him currently wasn't shaking. He could hear her loud and clear at the back of the room. Upon closer inspection, she'd also gone all out for her personal appearance. (Insomnia means one has plenty of time to do meticulous things with one's hair and makeup.) She'd also ironed pleats so sharp they should be considered dangerous weapons into her pants.

Tony grinned as he took another sip of the rapidly cooling beverage. The Holly in front of him should get the Oscar for Best Actress. He couldn't see a hint of nervousness in her eyes. This version of her could make the old guard on his executive board that constantly asked what his father would have done in every meeting stop and take notice. The smile never left his face as she continued with her presentation. When she began reviewing the experiments he'd watched her conduct in his lab, he kept his eyes on her instead of the screen containing the images from the tests.

She could be dangerous in the corporate world. She was smart and knew it. He never would have guessed that she hated meetings and presentations if she hadn't told him. Now all these professors had to do was rubber stamp everything and the two of them could start finding new ways to corner the market for…anything.

Bringing the coffee cup back up to his mouth, Tony stopped as a line from an old John Lennon song sprang to mind. "Life is just what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." He, Tony Stark, just made plans for something past the next day. He looked back down at the white plastic lid of the cup before again focusing on Holly. He never planned anything, not even work. He worked when the inspiration hit him, not because he had to. Now here he sat watching his girlfriend's presentation…

Wait, girlfriend? He'd never called anyone that before, even in his own head. What exactly were they? He didn't "date" per say and she wouldn't let him take her anywhere yet, so they definitely weren't doing that. There hadn't been any declarations of well…anything. She'd just kept showing up at his house to work after that initial invitation to "work". Of course, by "work" he meant that she would inevitably be able to fight him off long enough to do just enough to say that she had before falling into bed with him.

She definitely wasn't a one night stand. They'd been at this two months. Besides, he actually had feelings for her. At the internal admission, part of his brain immediately started damage control. He couldn't remember a time where he'd put this much effort into relations with a woman that he didn't want something from. He'd jetted out of board meetings to go to "presentations" before, but this was the first time he hadn't lied. She'd asked him to come for moral support. Why him, though? She had a grandfather who would be more than happy to be here. There had to be another reason she wanted  _ him _ there. Maybe it had something to do with the conversation where he admitted to understanding needing to prove oneself to family.

… _ Or she could have feelings for you _ .

That just wasn't possible, he reasoned. He was Tony Stark. Women didn't have feelings for him. They had feelings for his money. However, when the woman in question had her own money…it got a little more complex. Holly couldn't be naïve enough to think that just because he kept letting her come back… No. She was smarter than that.

But more importantly, why was he resisting? Howard, if he were alive, would certainly tell him not to. He'd always wanted to have a Stark-Morgan conglomerate. Tony would be lying if he said that he couldn't see the benefits of an arrangement to be made there, but it had never been high on his priority list to pursue. His internal musings came to an abrupt halt when he saw Holly's facial expression twist into a frown.

"So what you're telling us is that you've basically just re-invented DuPont’s 'Protera' line," one of the professors interjected suddenly.

"No. 'Ghost' is what 'Protera' could be if DuPont had carried their creation through to its logical conclusion instead of stopping to rush product to the military infrastructure," Holly replied.

Tony crossed his legs at the knees. Judging by the look on her face, she was trying to contain herself. That was definitely one thing she was better at than he was. He'd given up on his filter long ago. But watching her struggle to maintain hers? Priceless.

"So you're saying that at twenty-one, you have done what established scientists at one of the largest chemical companies in the world couldn't do? You uncovered what they failed to see?"

When she simply answered "Yes", Tony almost gave himself away when he started to choke on his coffee. Her ability to hold her filter was slipping quickly.

She calmly batted her eyes and smiled with a mock sweetness. "Professors, I submitted this same material to the United States Patent and Trademark Office two months ago. They seem to think my creation is viable, as my patent is currently pending."

"Isn't a bit premature?"

"I don't think so, no. After all, what good is an invention without a practical use? My connection at Stark Industries has approached me about using it as an anti-ground fire cover for certain airborne missiles in their 'Freedom' line."

Almost spitting out the bit of coffee he'd consumed to keep himself from coughing, he couldn't help but notice that the banter had all but stopped.

One professor eyed the other two warily and cut the presentation off before possible fisticuffs broke out. "Thank you, Miss Morgan. A fine presentation." The older woman with salt and pepper hair winked at her knowingly before ushering the others out of the room.

Once the others were safely out of the room, Tony tossed his coffee cup and began walking down the auditorium steps. "Your 'connection at Stark', huh?"

Holly laughed softly as she began gathering up her computer and papers and shoving them into her bag. "It shut them up didn't it?"

"It did, but I've got a feeling that I'm about to have a pissed off R&D director." He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

Positioning her bag on her shoulder under her purse, she rolled her eyes. "I lied to some professors, Tony. Tell him it's a rumor."

"It's only a rumor until I tell him that we should look into it." He glanced up at the ceiling and blew a raspberry before planting a kiss on her forehead. "I'm only sorry that I didn't think of it first."

Holly's hand fell open, much like her jaw, and laptop keys sprayed across the room when the computer met the floor.

* * *

It felt like he'd only been awake from his ice-induced diversion for ten minutes and there were already little green men from Mars involved? Steve could definitely feel a headache coming on, a headache that Tony Stark certainly was  _ not _ helping with. He was always willing to accept that there were things that were simply beyond his comprehension. He was an art student from Brooklyn that was still unsure of exactly how a vacuum tube worked. He didn't much concern himself with science, instead leaving that to those smarter than he was – like Holly. But unlike the petite brunette, Tony Stark didn't stop when Steve's eyes began to glaze over and revert to simpler terms that the man from another time could identify with. Tony didn't use the place settings from an in-flight meal to explain what happens inside a supercollider. Tony Stark kept going  _ ad nauseum _ using words and phrases that seemingly only he and Doctor Banner could understand.

Then there were the wisecracks. Admittedly, he turned around at the mention of a game called "Galaga". He had no idea what it was and made a mental note to ask Holly about it later. Games were fun. Maybe it was something he'd enjoy, like Monopoly. At least that was still around. Maybe he could beat her at whatever "Galaga" was just like he beat her soundly at Monopoly. He could  _ feel  _ Tony's eye roll when he caught a reference that he actually understood. He couldn't even have his brief moment of self-congratulation. When he looked back for validation, all he got was ignored. This was not going to be his day.

Strolling into the lab was all the confirmation of that fact Steve needed. Here was Tony poking Doctor Banner with some sort of stick, causing him to jump in surprise. He really didn't want to have to deal with this today. Dealing with the Cube and Loki's magic stick and fighting off this Martian army was about all the excitement he really could stomach. He probably should have just taken a bottle of Advil with him like Holly told him to. Battle wounds he could handle. This headache? "Hey! Are you nuts?"

"Jury's out!" Tony quipped with a sarcastic smile before turning to Banner, ignoring Steve once again. "You really have got a lid on it, haven't you? What's your secret? Mellow jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of weed?"

Steve exhaled sharply. What he wouldn't give for some of Holly's Advil right then. "Is everything a joke to you?" He silently wondered how much of the pain-relief medicine  _ she _ had to take just to put up with the annoying billionaire on a daily basis when they were together. He'd heard that love was blind, but he wasn't entirely sure that there was enough love in the world to be  _ that _ blind.

"Funny things are," he said matter-of-factly, pointing the sharp object at Steve.

"Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny." Steve paused and looked over at the silent third party in the conversation. "No offense, Doc."

"No it's alright. I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle pointy things," Banner said dismissively, glancing back at the object Tony previously jabbed him with.

Stark began walking away, gesturing happily with his hands as he approached another computer. "You're tip-toeing, big man. You need to strut."

It was official – Tony Stark was on his last nerve. "And you need to focus on the problem, Mister Stark." After a few more minutes of verbal sparring, he felt like he had to leave the room or risk stabbing his friend's son with Loki's magic stick.

"Following's not really my style." Tony popped a handful of blueberries into his mouth. He looked at Steve with a cocked eyebrow, daring him to say something.

"And you're all about style, aren't you?" Steve asked sarcastically.

"Out of the people in this room, which one is 'A' wearing a spangly outfit and 'B' not of use?"

With a simple command of "Just find the cube," Steve made his exit. As he walked down the halls in search of…whatever proof Tony's machine was already scanning for, all he could think of was what in the  _ world _ could Holly have seen in this jerk. He wasn't at all like Howard. Well, some of the male bravado was there, but that was something he could let go of. Being a man sometimes meant putting on a bigger show than the other guy to let them know who's boss.

Wrenching open the door marked "SECURE STORAGE 10-C", he gritted his teeth. These newer locks were a little harder to manhandle. He stepped inside the massive storage area filled with silver boxes and began to wander around. Tony was some sort of genius according to his file (and Peggy). Holly was no slouch in the brains department either, he noticed. While she hadn't told him anything past "designing uniforms", he'd seen the books on her shelves. Some of the things she read about were things he'd seen at the World Expo in '43. Particle physics? He had no idea what that even was, but she seemed to have a book on it -  The God Particle: If the Universe Is the Answer, What Is the Question? . The title stuck out so clearly in his mind simply because he realized as he read the description of the tome on the internet later that it was  _ not _ a book on religion. Maybe the sheer amount of brainpower that appeared when she and Stark got into a room was enough to sustain a relationship.

Slowly opening one of the silver bins, he thought his heart would stop. Inside lay a gun complete with a HYDRA symbol and the helmet those goons wore. He grabbed the gun and made his way back to the lab. "Phase Two is S.H.I.E.L.D. used the Cube to make weapons," he said, slamming the gun down on one of the tables. He turned to Tony. "Sorry, computer was moving a little slow for me."

Fury turned slowly to face his super-soldier. "Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean that we're…"

"I'm sorry, Nick." Tony interrupted, cutting the Director off and turning the computer screen to face their leader. "What were you lying?"

"I was wrong, Director. The world hasn't changed a bit."

"You forced our hand! We had to come up with some…"

"Nuclear deterrent! 'Cause that always calms everything right down," Tony deadpanned, hands stuck in the front pockets of his jeans.

"Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?"

Steve began walking slowly towards the source of his headache. "I'm sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck deep…"

"Wait-Wait!" Tony interjected. "Hold on! How is this now about me?"

"I'm sorry, isn't everything?" He'd had his share of difficult soldiers in the past, but Howard's son was an entirely different breed.

"You're on that list? Are you above or below angry bees?" Tony mocked.

What in the hell was an "angry bee"? Weren't all bees angry before they decided to sting you? "I swear to God, Stark, one more crack..." Steve warned, pointing a finger at the younger Stark.

"You're a threat. VERBAL THREAT! I FEEL THREATENED!"

"Show some respect," the super-soldier commanded.

"RESPECT WHAT!" The room began filling with various arguments, making it hard to distinguish one from another. "Why shouldn't they guy let off a little steam?" Tony rested a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"You know damn well why!" He smacked the hand away. "Back off!"

"Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me," Tony teased.

With a threatening smile, Steve began to walk in a circle around his new least best friend. "Yeah, big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?"

"Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist," he said, slowly turning his head to face Steve with each word. He cocked his head to the side.

In that moment, the picture Peggy showed him of Holly at her grandfather's funeral taken for a newspaper article sprang to mind. If there was ever a picture literally worth a thousand words, it was that one. He wished he could shove that picture in this egotistical bastard's face. The picture showed her not as the woman full of life that took pleasure in sharing her knowledge with him, but as the girl who'd just lost her soul. He was sorely tempted to bring her up, just to prove him the better man.  _ He _ never made Holly cry. "I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. I've seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you."

"I think I would just cut the wire."

"Always a way out. You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero." Holly deserved a hero, and why in the world she cried over Tony Stark he'd never know.

"A hero, like you? You're a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle," Tony spat.

The urge to just run him through with Loki's magic stick was suddenly rearing its ugly head again. Despite what Peggy said, Steve wasn't fully convinced that this jerk didn't hurt her. He knew all too well that there were more ways to be hurt than with a fist. "Put on the suit, let's go a few rounds." He knew Holly would strongly deny that she needed anyone to defend her and would be strongly against him beating Stark across his hard head with his shield, but it would certainly make him feel better.

Their argument died down slowly and attention was suddenly focused on Doctor Banner holding the scepter after confessing to trying to kill himself. The computer beeped, signifying they had an answer as to the location of the Cube. Steve breathed a sigh of relief. They had an objective.

He rolled his eyes and grabbed Stark by the arm. "You're not going alone!" he ordered after hearing him say that he could get to the Cube faster.

"You gonna stop me?" Tony dared, slapping Steve's hand away.

"Put on the suit, let's find out!" Once again, the two men were toe to toe with no signs of either one backing down. This had to stop, or else nothing would get done. They'd never get off the helicarrier to get anything done.

"I'm not afraid to hit an old man."

"Put on the suit." An explosion suddenly rocked the entire room, sending Steve flying hip-first into the nearby countertop. He landed face-down on the floor. "Put on the suit," he repeated with a wildly different tone, looking up at Tony as he tried to help him up.

"Yep."

* * *

"What the hell?" Tony Stark gasped as the sound of the Hulk's roar brought him back into consciousness. "What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me."

Steve rocked back onto his heels and began to breathe deeply to slow his heart rate. "We won," he whispered, looking up at the sky with a relieved expression. He wasn't exactly sure what astonished him more – Stark's selfless act or the fact that he'd just battled aliens.

"Alright, yay!" the billionaire said between gasping breaths. "Hooray! Good job, guys! Let's just not come in tomorrow. Let's just take a day. Have you ever tried shawarma? There's a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don't know what it is, but I want to try it."

Thor looked up at the badly damaged Stark Tower. "We're not finished yet," he said reluctantly.

"And then shawarma after?"

Steve lifted Tony's left arm over his broad shoulder and pulled him up into a standing position. "Loki is still up in your living room."

Turning his head as far as he could, Tony eyed the Captain's ripped and bloody uniform. He let out a wheezing laugh. "I'm glad you survived, Cap, but you have to know that Morgan's going to  _ kill  _ you slowly when she realizes you've torn her suit."

" _ Her _ suit?" he questioned as he began slowly walking forward, allowing the younger Stark to use him as a crutch.

"I presume you know who made your old one."

"Her great-grandfather." Steve winced, realizing he was admitting his true age. "And that makes me feel a little more than old."

He laughed. Tony suddenly motioned for the super-soldier to stop and began pinching at certain parts of the fabric on the shoulders of the uniform. "Son of a bitch," the younger man huffed. "She's definitely made improvements since the last time I saw it."

He began to drag the technically younger man forwards. "Well, none of the seams ripped. She did a damn fine job of sewing it together. She's almost like Betsy Ross."

At the mention of the purported maker of the first American flag, Stark the Younger fell into peals of hysterical, breathless laughter. "If she ever speaks to me again, I am going to tell her you said that, and she's going to go postal."

Steve scrunched up his face at the unfamiliar reference. He didn't understand what mailing a letter had to do with Holly working on his uniform. "I'm going out on a limb here and assume that means she's going to be mad. But why would she be? I merely complemented her obviously amazing sewing skills."

"A computer  _ sewed _ it, Spangles," he deadpanned, reaching up and tapping the material covering the other man's bicep. "She developed that very material in a lab in college. Cooked up enough of it in my lab at home to make a prototype suit and threw bombs at it in the desert." He looked up at the smoldering remains of his name on Stark Tower, smiling wistfully. That wasn't the only thing they'd done in the desert that day… "Did you at least read the tag this time?"

"I-I didn't think Howard knew about the…"

"Oh he knew," he added solemnly. "He wouldn't tell me what it said."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue borrowed from "The Avengers".


	7. Chapter Six

_ It can't be known _

_ What lies in wait _

_ For those of us in crippled states _

_ A broken mind is no escape _

_ When there's no one left to reason with _

_ There's no one left to call your name… _

 

Thanks to the advanced warning that the rest of Manhattan didn't get, personnel at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters were mostly unharmed. Non-essential personnel took shelter in the lower levels of the building, while Holly holed herself up in her windowless lab. What parts of her body weren't screaming for medical attention were screaming in panic.

It hurt, oh god did it hurt. It was starting to swell and turn black and blue. Pain never was Holiday Morgan's strong suit. A princess from a very young age, she cried every time she got a shot until she was fifteen. It would be her luck that some ship that looked like a roly-poly would grind itself into the street below and make the whole building shake violently, sending her leg on an awkward collision course with her gun safe and the rest of her straight to the ground. She knew the moment she hit the ground that something was horribly wrong. It'd taken her twenty-seven years, but she'd finally broken a bone.

"Gotcha, you little piece of shit," Holly winced victoriously after managing to pin her cell phone between the spiky heel of her left pump and the rest of the sole. She pulled the shoe back towards her, bringing the phone with the now shattered screen into her grasp. She shoved the shoe into her oversized purse that she'd brought to hang across her body in the event of her rescue. Her left leg lay bent awkwardly as a large purple and blue bruise began to quickly form over her kneecap. Thankfully, she was still able to unlock the screen and bring up the telephone keypad. She sighed in relief when someone picked up at the other end after she'd hit send.

" _ S.H.I.E.L.D. emergency center? _ "

"Oh thank god," she uttered through a deep cough. "This is Holiday Morgan. I'm uh…trapped in my office. I've definitely…" Three beeps suddenly filled her ear. The call had dropped. "Well fuck."

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

Utterly exhausted didn't even cover what Steve Rogers felt. If he laid down anywhere, he might just sleep for another seventy years (preferably somewhere warmer this time around). Sleep could come after he got out of this hot, dirty, and ripped uniform and got some medical attention for the large cut on his left side that came courtesy of executing a belly flop on top of a parked car. At least it was over.

Limping in through the front door of S.H.I.E.L.D., he quickly realized that it was indeed not over when a tall, thin agent ran over to him.

"Captain Rogers," he began as he wiped dust off of his flak jacket. "Thank god you're here."

Steve groaned. "I'm headed down to medical to get this cut looked at."

"Before you do that, you need to go to the tenth floor."

"And why do I need to do that?"

"Because the emergency line just got a call from Miss Morgan."

His eyes widened as his grip on his shield tightened. He felt like he would throw up. "Is she alright?"

"All she said was that she was trapped in her office before the call dropped. We don't know if something fell on her or is blocking her way…" The other man didn't even finish his sentence. Instead, he watched Captain America take off for the stairs.

As Steve took the stairs two at a time, he found himself running through all possible scenarios in his head. She was clearly still alive if she made the phone call. Was she trapped under something? If so, he only hoped that he would get there in time. His experience in the Army taught him that limbs trapped under things could mean nerve damage and loss of circulation if not tended to in time. Had she hit her head?

Finally reaching the tenth floor after what seemed like an eternity, he shoved open the heavy metal door that opened into the elevator lobby from the staircase. His heart sank when he saw the lifeless body of one of the Chitauri soldiers in the middle of the floor with its weapon facing Holly's open office door. "Oh god," he whispered sadly. When he heard the unmistakable sound of a round being chambered in a gun, he froze in place. "Holly?" he called. "Are you here?"

"Steve? Steve, is that you?" a hoarse voice called from inside the office.

"Yeah, it's me!" Breaking the threshold of the smoke and dust filled office, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her sitting on the floor. He dropped to the ground beside her and pulled her in for an awkward hug.

"I wasn't exactly expecting them to send you when I called, but I'll take what assistance I can get." Before he could respond, Holly gasped and instinctively reached out to touch him when she caught sight of the large rip in his uniform. "You ruined my uniform!" she screeched, touching the bloody rip on his right shoulder and the scorched and still bleeding rip just below his left pectoral muscle.

He couldn't help but grin. Stark was right, as much as he hated to admit it. The city was in ruins, she was obviously injured, and all she seemed to care about was him…and the uniform. "Speaking of this uniform, I couldn't help but notice that it's considerably more form-fitting than the one your great-grandfather made. Care to explain that?"

Her eyes roamed up and down her spangled creation, nodding in approval at the way the material-covered armor only served to make his broad chest look bigger…and the way that the bottoms (especially as he was kneeling) made his butt look like she could bounce quarters off it. "Nope. Not really, no." She cocked an eyebrow. "Did you read the tag this time?"

_ What is it with people and tags lately? _ "I-I had to throw it on in a hurry. There wasn't time." When he looked away sheepishly, his eyes fell upon a familiar sight. "And just where did you get that?" he asked, pointing at the old M-1 rifle laying at her side. "Those aren't standard issue anymore."

Despite her pain, she couldn't help but smile. She picked up the rifle and pointed to a place on the worn stock where someone had carved something. When she heard him read out "Lieutenant Michael Morgan" softly, she clutched the gun to her chest protectively for a moment before setting it back on the ground. "It's still useful. Just ask your little alien buddy in the hallway."

Well, at least he knew how the bastard met his end. "Good to know. Now come on, let's get you up."

She let out a pained laugh. "That's going to be difficult," she admitted, motioning toward her left leg. "I have no personal experience in the area, but I'm pretty sure that I've broken something."

Steve squeezed his eyes shut for a second before reopening them. That definitely wasn't good. Glancing up at her face, he realized she'd been crying. Her makeup was smudged, and there were faint black tear tracks on her cheeks. He shook off his gloves and gently moved to get a closer look at her leg. He touched the now rapidly swelling black, blue,  _ and _ purple area around her knee.

She bit down on her lower lip, stifling a pained cry as he gently felt for broken bones. When his calloused fingers ghosted over her knee, she couldn't hold it in anymore. "Oh god, it hurts so bad," she cried, tears streaming down her face again.

"C-Can you move it at all?" The quick shake of her head was all he needed. "Look at me," he commanded softly, tilting her chin up so he looked down into her dark eyes as he slipped back into Captain America mode briefly. "Do you have anything in here we can make a splint out of? Rope, pieces of wood…"

"I don't have any rope. The only wood I've got in here is some blocks to prop things up with." Thinking quickly, she removed her blouse to reveal a black tank top underneath and began ripping the sleeves off. "They're going to have to completely renovate this office after all this anyway. Will the legs on that chair work?"

A few minutes later, Holly looked triumphantly up at Steve after tightening the last knot on her shirt sleeve around the two chair legs that surrounded her knee. "Not my finest work by far, but I think it'll serve our purposes."

He smiled briefly. "Ready to go?" At her nod, he slipped his shield onto his left arm. He managed to summon one last burst of strength to lift his friend into his arms.

"How exactly are we…" Her sentence was cut short when he shifted her onto his back and nudged her to wrap her good leg around his hip.

The pain only intensified with the added weight, but what use was a super-soldier to anyone if he couldn't help the damsel in distress? He softly promised her as he carried her down to the medical bay that he wouldn't tell anyone he saw the strong woman cry, even though she was in excruciating pain and had every right to. If anyone asked, she got dirt in her eyes.

"Hang on, turn your back to the door. I can kick it open with my good leg," Holly offered as they finally reached the door to the lobby. She grunted as she brought her right foot, still clad in an orange pump while her left shoe hung precariously out of her bag, into contact with the door handle to open it. As Steve carefully made his way through the tight doorway, she sniffled and laid her head down on his rubble-covered, sweat-soaked shoulder pad. "Oh my  _ god _ , please let them give me some serious pain pills."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get you down there, okay?" Once he'd managed to make it down to medical, Steve sighed in relief after safely depositing his friend into the first wheelchair he found. He carefully adjusted the footrest to accommodate her injured leg. When he heard her call his name softly, he moved to crouch in front of the wheelchair.

But Steve wasn't the only one to hear her voice. Tony, who had been drug along at the insistence of Director Fury to make sure that nothing had happened to him during his brief stint on the other side of the universe, spun around and stopped cold.

"I uh… I just wanted to thank you, Steve. Thanks for coming to get me…and for everything else," she whispered, taking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I-I can't take all the…"

She shook her head. "Can't you just say 'you're welcome' for once?"

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he turned around to see a doctor motioning toward himself and Holly. He stepped away and allowed the stranger to push her wheelchair away. A nurse directed him to an exam table a moment later.

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

Tony gathered that the Capsicle and Holly had been spending some time together, or so Phil Coulson told him, but the sheer amount of time had been clearly underestimated. There before his eyes was Holly, covered in dust with…chair legs around her leg tied together with what used to be an expensive blouse. …And Spangles holding her hand as she cried.

Subconsciously, his blood began to boil. The man his father never shut the hell up about was taking care of  _ his _ Holly. His dark eyes shot to the ground. Where had that thought come from? She hadn't been  _ his Holly _ in years. The Captain had once again proved himself to be every bit the knight in shining armor that his father always knew he was.

"You look…troubled," a voice said suddenly.

Tony turned quickly toward the voice, relieved to see Doctor Banner back to his normal size and attire. "Just thinking," he replied dismissively.

"Uh huh," the scientist mumbled. "And if you could suddenly shoot daggers out of your eyes, Rogers and the girl he carried in here would be dead."

Tony clenched his fists several times, completely at a loss for where this feeling was coming from. It may have come from the fact that he  _ never  _ saw her so vulnerable in all the time he'd known her. The only times he'd seen her cry was when she held him after he was brought home from Afghanistan and then when she left him. She never let him see her hurting. Despite everything, he couldn't help but feel like he should have done more to protect her, to take her to safety. "It's nothing."

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

When Holly was wheeled out of the x-ray room with a slightly better splint than a torn shirt and two chair legs, Steve jumped off the exam table and made his way toward her. "A-Are you going to be okay?"

"Eventually," she replied with a sigh of regret as she tugged at the white hospital gown she'd been changed into. "After some surgery, four to six weeks in a…rather large cast, and some physical therapy." A smile suddenly crossed her face and she failed to stifle a giggle. "They gave me something to make me feel awesome. I don't even know why I'm laughing. I'm about to go have surgery to fix my…what was it, doc?"

"A displaced patella fracture," the man pushing her wheelchair deadpanned. He clearly wasn't as amused as the patient.

Kneeling down by the side of the wheelchair, he gave her right shoulder a gentle squeeze when a worried look crossed her face. "I'll be here when you wake up, okay?"

She up and laid her hand atop his, gripping two of his gloved fingers tightly. "Thanks." She let go of his hand reluctantly when the wheelchair began to move. Her eyes never left his until she was pushed into another room.

"Cap, you're not going to do her any favors by just waiting. Tony's managed to convince the shawarma restaurant owners to open for us."

Steve turned around to find Doctor Banner standing behind him. "I'm fine…"

The shorter man raised an eyebrow. "I've read the notes, Steve. You need about four helpings to my one. C'mon. Shawarma can't be that bad."

After glancing over his shoulder to where Holly had been taken, he turned back to his new teammate and nodded.

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

Standing in the doorway of what used to be Holly's office with his arms folded across his chest, Tony Stark let out a frustrated sigh. He'd been just standing there watching Holly Morgan sleep peacefully thanks to the heavy rounds of painkillers she'd been given post-surgery before he couldn't stand there anymore. He'd come back to S.H.I.E.L.D. with Rogers after the extremely satisfying, albeit silent, feast on shawarma. When the doctor told them that they'd have to keep her for a few days, Rogers had offered to go get her some clothes from her place.

 

" _ Stark, can you stay with her while I go?" a fresh out of the shower Steve whispered so as not to wake his slumbering friend as he fished through her filthy purse until he found her house keys. He let out a long yawn. "She's… After everything that's happened, she doesn't need to wake up alone." _

" _ You're up for digging through her drawer full of unmentionables?" Tony teased in an effort to make the other man blush. _

" _ You don't even know where she lives. Besides, it's nothing that I can't handle." Crossing the room in two strides, he leaned against the door frame. "Now are you going to stay or not?" At Tony's nod, Steve left the room. _

 

Sure, Rogers could probably manage to bring her the basics. He'd grab clothes that probably didn't match (or at least she'd refuse to wear together). He'd probably close his eyes and just reach into her underwear drawer and grab Jesus knows what. Hell, he probably would find her cosmetics bag and shampoo, but would completely leave her hairdryer and straightener behind.

She'd inevitably ask for her laptop. She couldn't have changed  _ that _ much in four years. She would want to at least feel like she was doing  _ something _ . He quickly climbed over the remnants of one of her state of the art machines to stand behind her desk.

If he were her computer, where would she have stowed it? She wouldn't have wanted any files lost, so she would have shut it down and shoved it somewhere relatively safe… His brown eyes fell on the miraculously still standing gun safe with the door shut. Smiling at his certain victory, he crawled over the pieces of ceiling and stood in front of the heavy metal box. He jerked on the handle, but it wouldn't budge.  _ Damn _ .

Tony began quickly running through possible number combinations in his head. On a whim, he decided to try his birthday, 5-1-70.

Nope. He should have known that wasn't it.

Hers. It had to be her birthday. Biting the corner of his upper lip in concentration, he began to turn the dial again. 2-19-85. He chuckled softly as the heavy lock clicked open. His efforts were rewarded when he found a sleek black laptop still partially attached to its AC adaptor perched atop a pile of handguns.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he returned to Holly's recovery room that she still slept soundly. Rogers wasn't back yet either. He quietly set the computer on top of the clinical looking metal nightstand and managed to find a scrap of paper and a pen in her purse. No sooner had he left the hastily scribbled note atop the black computer, he heard heavy footfalls approaching.

"Did she stir at all?" Steve asked, setting the large duffle bag that might just hold the patient herself, if she were so inclined, gently onto the floor between the two men and Holly's bed.

"Didn't hear a peep out of her, Cap'n," Tony assured, doing his best to feign a smile. "Model patient. Grade A." The billionaire recoiled slightly at Steve's outstretched hand, but finally acquiesced to the handshake.

Tightening his grip on the handshake, blue eyes finally met brown. A look of understanding finally passed between them. "Thanks, Tony."

"Couldn't have her wake up, lose her mind, and then rip out those stitches could we, Betsy Ross?" he quipped before making a quick exit from the room. He knew full well why he was being thanked…and he'd rather not think about it.

Steve produced a fluffy blue blanket from the duffel once he heard the heavy door to the entrance of medical open and shut. He glanced over at the nightstand to make sure that the water pitcher was full just in case Holly woke up. Noticing it full, he began to wrap the blanket around his broad shoulders before doing a double take. Her laptop computer and power cord had somehow made their way into the room. As he slowly approached the bedside table, he froze when she moaned and turned her head to the side. Once he was reasonably sure she wasn't going to wake up, he picked up the folded piece of paper. It was definitely a man's handwriting, judging by the thin, spiky letters spelling out her name. It would be rude to pry, but he couldn't stop his brain guessing.

It wouldn't be from the medical staff, he deduced. They would have used a more formal tone of address. She never mentioned any family living in the area, but even if she did have any, they couldn't access S.H.I.E.L.D. secure areas. Agent Barton parted the group's company with Agent Romanoff as they left the shawarma place. Coulson…couldn't have left the note. And Steve knew that he certainly didn't leave it. The only other person who knew she was here and had access to the room was Tony.

But why in the world would he leave a note? He quickly reminded himself that it was rude to pry… The note fell partially open in his hand as he moved to put it back, revealing the note's closing – "Get well soon kid. –Tony".

Wrapping the blanket fully around his shoulders, he settled into the hard hospital chair on the right side of Holly's bed. He quickly positioned a pillow between his shoulder and the wall before propping his sock-covered feet on the bed by her good leg. The last thought that crossed his mind before sleep finally took him was that he'd slept in more comfortable positions in a war zone…

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

Holly tried to adjust her sleeping position, only to be met with a heart-stopping wave of pain. Her eyes shot open and she gasped at the sight of her left leg not only covered in a cast from mid-thigh to ankle, but at its suspension from a metal rig.

The movement on the bed startled Steve. His feet hit the tiled floor as he flung off the blanket and appeared ready to leap into action. "Are you alright?" he asked, voice still gruff from sleep. The pained whimper that escaped her throat combined with her fists gripping the white blankets told him she was anything but. "What do you need?"

"To kick Loki in the motherfucking dick," she swore as a tear slid down her cheek. "I do still have one good leg, you know. Barring that, though, I'd kill for something to make it stop. Vicodin? Percocet? A gunshot to the head? Anything?" Her head lolled back onto the pillows with a relieved smile when a nurse made their way into the room with a paper cup of pills and some water.

Settling back into the chair, he wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders. S.H.I.E.L.D. kept their medical areas colder than the airplane flying over the North Atlantic. As he watched Holly swallow the pills, he rolled his head to work out the crick that set in thanks to his…unique sleeping position.

"You, madam, are a goddess. If I had any romantic prospects at all, I would offer to name my firstborn after you." She let out a pained laugh when the nurse rolled her eyes and smiled before exiting the room. As the high-powered drugs began to set in, Holly eyed her new surroundings. Her eyes fell on her laptop on the nightstand…and the note. She didn't have to even unfold the note to know who left it. She hesitantly unfolded the note and began to read.

" _ Because I know that you can't sit still unless you've got something to work on. Don't work too hard. You're worse than me. Get well soon, kid. –Tony _ "

"Was he here?" she asked, throwing the wadded up note across the room and managing to bounce it off the rim of the trashcan. The last thing she needed in her life was another note from Tony Stark. Some days she wondered how much trouble she could have saved herself if she'd ignored the first one…

Steve nodded. "The doctor said you'd be here for a couple days, so I went to get you some clothes. I didn't want you to wake up alone, so he waited here with you until I got back." When she didn't react at all, he sat up a little straighter. "S-Should I not have…"

"I appreciate the thought, Steve," she interrupted, speaking slowly as she carefully chose her next words. "But historically nothing good comes from Tony Stark and I being left alone together in a room."

"Dare I ask?"

Holly chuckled softly. "Well, the last time was about three years ago. I pointed a gun at him. The time before that was…almost a year before that. I tried to bash his head in with a socket wrench, and then I decked him."

Peggy had definitely been right about one thing. They didn't just "grow apart and ended things mutually". There was still something missing. "I-I thought you two were friends."

"We were," she admitted softly.

"Am I allowed to ask what happened?"

"We… We had a falling out. I told him to have a nice life and walked away." She squeezed her eyes shut. She hated not telling Steve everything. He'd find out eventually. Everyone always did. But if she didn't tell him, if she held this back,  _ this  _ wouldn't be between them. When she opened her eyes again, she could see his silent plea for more information. "Y-You've been here all night after you just saved the world. Go home, Steve. Go home and get some sleep. You're far better to me than I deserve."

"I think I need to stay here…"

"Oh my god, you really are too perfect. I promise I will be fine. If you're that concerned, just come back and see me tomorrow." When he finally left under protest a few moments later, she curled up into a ball as best she could with one leg hanging in the air and began to cry silently.

* * *

_ May 15, 2008 _

_ Stark Industries _

_ 4:17 pm _

 

To say that Holly Morgan was stressed would be an understatement. Hell, to say she was mad, hurt, and upset would all be understatements as well. Clad in a harsh and unforgiving combination of a black pencil skirt, black pumps, dark floral print blouse (buttoned to the collar), and a white scarf, she stood with her hands folded across her chest and pored over her plan once more as she watched workmen carefully package the Jericho system into crates. In less than thirty-six hours, the crates would be opened on the other side of the world. The contents would be assembled, and Tony would make his pitch to the powers-that-be. Her eyes fell upon the three sand colored warheads being carefully boxed up separately.

_ Step one _ , she thought as she patted her skirt pocket,  _ cash this check. _ The three large warheads had shells partially composed of her Ghost polymer. Okay, so it had been a little white lie when she told her thesis committee that she'd already been approached by Stark Industries to use her polymer. If a little white one eventually proves to be true (two years isn't that long), is it still a little white lie? She'd delivered enough of the polymer for this initial system a month earlier, with enough for nineteen more systems earlier that day. Polymer for twenty systems at fifteen thousand a piece? Three hundred thousand dollars wasn't too shabby at all. The strong possibility of at least another thousand systems? Ten million had an even better ring to it.

_ Step two: buy something shiny.  _ The calling of the new Mercedes SL convertible was getting harder and harder to ignore. She smiled wickedly. The call from the dealership had come through earlier that morning. They'd have the black one she ordered on their lot in two days. She'd pick it up just as soon her billionaire boyfriend was airborne for Afghanistan.

_ Step three: drive the aforementioned shiny car over to Tony's house and… _

"I see you started without me," a deeply familiar voice called out from behind her.

Holly rolled her eyes before turning around to face the source of the voice.  _ Speak of the devil and he shall appear. _ "Not really," she replied sharply. "Just came to pick up my check."

"I trust you're going to buy something sexy with it," he purred as he reached out and attempted to grab her by the hips. When she moved away to avoid his grasp, his eyes narrowed. "Something wrong?"

_ Today is clearly the day for understatements. He had  _ no _ idea… _ "I just came to pick up the check and give a mental middle finger to my thesis committee." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him reaching for her again. "I have to get back to work. I've missed about a hundred calls just to take an hour to come get the…"

"…check, I know," Tony finished with an eye roll. "We should celebrate tonight. You, me, champagne, nudity…"

"Can't. I've got plans." Holly quickly stepped around him and began to walk toward the door.

"Tomorrow? You can come with me to Vegas for that…award thing."

She hissed softly and shook her head. "Booked solid with a meeting bright and early with accounting the next morning. Sorry."

"When I get back then?"

She pulled open the heavy metal door and flashed one last grin at the smug bastard. "Sure. Have a nice trip…" Once the door had shut behind her, she finished her sentence. "…asshole."

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

_ Seventy-two hours later… _

 

Holly giggled as she shifted her new convertible into park in Tony's garage, popped the trunk, and killed the engine. Opening the driver's door, she continued humming the insipid pop song she'd been listening to on the ride to Malibu from the Mercedes dealership while she made her way back to the open trunk.

" _ Miss Morgan, anything I can do for you? _ "

"Good afternoon, JARVIS," she greeted sweetly, pulling a large suitcase from the trunk. "Actually, there is. Could you be a dear and download any personal files or files pertaining to Ghost on your drive and put them on something I can take with me?"

" _ Certainly. Would you like me to leave copies on Mister Stark's server? _ "

She shook her head as she punched in her access code by the door into the main house. "No, delete them. And make it so Tony can't do some creative computer work and retrieve them, will you?"

" _ Is everything alright? _ "

She tugged open the glass door and effortlessly carried the suitcase up the stairs. "Everything will always be alright between you and I, JARVIS. Between myself and your creator is a little more complicated than that."

Continuing to climb the stairs, her overconfident and gleeful attitude began to crumble. By the time she reached the top, the wall had completely fallen. She dropped to the ground and began to sob. Two and a half years of her life now meant nothing. She ignored the idle gossip. He said he loved  _ her _ . She loved him. The whole thing, as she'd learned shortly before heading to Stark Industries to get the check, had been one big ball of lies. She should have known that it was all too good to be true. No way in hell was Tony Stark ever going to be anything other than…himself. How could she have been that stupid?

After a few moments, Holly finally managed to pick herself up off the floor. She wiped her tears and pushed open the door to Tony's bedroom. She let out another short sob at the sight of the bedroom. The pillows and soft sheets lay scattered across the room…as well as a discarded maroon dress shirt. Temporarily leaving the suitcase, she gently picked up the shirt. She immediately recognized Tony's cologne…mixed with some god awful perfume. Balling the shirt up in her hands, she tossed it across the room before suddenly feeling the need for some hand sanitizer.

_ And one more makes thirteen…that I know about. _

She sighed heavily. Retrieving the suitcase, she pushed into the overly large closet and began to quickly remove anything of hers from "her" spot on the rack.


	8. Chapter Seven

_ When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me _

_ Speaking words of wisdom, let it be _

_ And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me _

_ Speaking words of wisdom, let it be… _

 

_ August 20, 2008 _

_ Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center _

_ 1:45 pm _

 

Holly pulled the cuffs of the scratchy grey hospital-issued sweatshirt that was about three sizes too big over hands, crossing her arms across her chest. Looking up at the mild-mannered middle-aged woman sitting across from her, she sniffed loudly and wiped away a tear with the sleeve that sorely needed some fabric softener. "So how exactly is this supposed to work, doc? Where do I start?"

"The beginning is always a good place, I find. And please, call me Vickie."

She moved her head back and forth a few times before inhaling deeply. "Alright…Vickie. When you say 'beginning', do you mean like Oliver Twist 'beginning' where I go back to when I was born? I don't think we have time for that. I'm just here because Greg…Doctor Embry practically escorted me here."

She slowly moved her glasses off her nose and onto the top of her salt and pepper colored hair. "I see a number of his patients who are in…similar circumstances to the one you're in now. Did he tell you that?"

Holly nodded. "Yeah, he told me."

"Then you know that he's only doing this because he cares. From what I understand, you're dealing with a lot more right now than just what brought you to the emergency room this morning."

"I think that's the understatement of the year," she scoffed.

"Maybe that's a good place to start. I hear that these last three months especially have been trying, to say the least."

She began to pick absentmindedly at a bit of fuzz protruding from a leg of the equally oversized and scratchy grey sweatpants. "First Tony, then my grandfather, and now this. I'm waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out and yell 'You've been punked'."

"Well, you just got word that Mister Stark will be home in two days. That's a little bit of good news, isn't it?"

"I suppose."

"What are you going to say when you see him?"

"I… I have no idea. I don't know if I can even face him."

"And why is that? Are you worried about telling him what happened today?" When Holly nodded, the older woman smiled sadly and leaned forward in her chair a little. "That's natural. He's gone through a lot these past months, too. Adding this to the pile of new baggage he's undoubtedly trying to process too soon wouldn't be doing him any favors. He's going to need as much 'normal' as he can get for a while, and part of that 'normal' may just be you. Tend to the living. The dead can wait. Let him start to see that normal before you tell him this." Folding her hands together, she tilted her head to seek out the young woman's gaze. "But that's not the only problem is it? There's something else."

"When would be a good time to tell him that I took all my stuff out of his house while he was gone because I was going to leave him the moment that he got off the plane?"

"Is that still your plan?"

"To leave, get out? I… I don't know. Part of me is screaming 'get out'. The fact that he went missing for three months doesn't negate everything else…"

"And the rest?"

"The rest of me… The rest of me tells me not to."

"Why?"

"Guilt, like soul-crushing 'how can I do this to him, regardless of what he did to me' guilt. I've spent every waking moment since I found out he was missing trying to learn to live with myself. This entire time, I've been asking myself could I have done something to help if I'd been there." Holly stopped suddenly. The tears she'd been holding back couldn't wait any longer. "If he died, his last thought of me was that I was here waiting on him, looking for him. And now that he's coming back alive, h-he's going to…" She trailed off as she began to sob.

Vickie pulled a tissue from the box on her desk and gently offered it to her. "He's going to what?"

"H-He's going to need me, actually need me. And after today, I… I may need him, too."

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

_ Two days later… _

 

Holly took in a deep breath as her hand closed around the handrail at the bottom of the stairs. In the bedroom at the top of these stairs, Tony was waiting for her after three months of not knowing whether he was alive or dead. Her long talk with Vickie had helped some, but this was real life and not a therapist's office. Slipping off her black pumps, she kicked them out of the way and continued up the stairs barefoot. Against Vickie's advice, she'd come prepared to spill about her hospital stay…just in case it came up.

Pausing just outside the closed bedroom door, she began to wonder if it was a good time for her to come. She reminded herself that she had to do this. Swallowing hard, she turned the doorknob and pushed the door open gently. "Tony?" she called softly as she poked her head through the partially open door.

"H-Hol, is that you?" he asked before clearing his throat. Turning his head toward the direction of the voice, he smiled when she stepped into the room. "Your hair's different," he noted at the sight of her now-brown hair, patting the soft sheets beside him. When more tears began to fall from her already red eyes, he almost faltered.

She couldn't help but let out a soft laugh as her hands tightened around her small black clutch that contained only her keys, driver's license, phone, and hospital paperwork. "It's you, alright. Who else would open a conversation with that?"

"Touché." He pushed himself up into a sitting position and climbed out of the warm bed when she stayed rooted to the floor. "Come here," he whispered, holding his arms out toward her.

Holly dropped her clutch to the floor unceremoniously before quickly closing the distance between them. She sniffled loudly when Tony pulled her to him. Laying her head on his shoulder, she smiled when she felt the gentle throb of his carotid against the bridge of her nose.

"I heard about Michael. I'm so sorry." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "How are you holding up?"

"Better now," she admitted, circling her arms around his middle. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"There were a couple of close calls there..."

She lifted her head and cupped his cheek in her hand. "They said you escaped. How did-"

He groaned, pulling the clip out of her long hair. He buried his nose in the soft strands and took in the familiar scent of her shampoo. How was he supposed to explain the arc reactor and the suit? "Some other time, okay?"

Holly nodded gently, bringing her hand down to rest on the buttons of his dress shirt. "What the…" she muttered as her hand hit something hard. Frantically, she began unbuttoning the shirt. When she'd unbuttoned enough of the shirt to see a strange circle of light protruding slightly from his chest, she took a step back. "W-What's that?" she asked warily.

"Well, I guess you asking now is better than asking in the middle of the epic 'welcome home sex' that I've been counting on." He took her hand and brought it gently back to the reactor. "Remember that arc reactor in the factory?"

"The one that you can't quite get to work all the way?"

He nodded. "I got it to work. It's just smaller."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Wait, when the hell did you have time to do that? You certainly didn't have that in your chest before you left."

"I was supposed to be building a Jericho system for the people that took me."

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "So you're telling me that the arc reactor in the factory doesn't work exactly right, but you built that in a cave," she said slowly, pointing at the strange little device with her free hand. When he nodded, she laughed nervously. "Okay, shouldn't have doubted the genius, but it begs the question – why is it sitting where your sternum should be?"

"I've been dreaming of your ass for three months…" he moaned as a hand began to travel south from the small of her back...

Holly swatted his arm gently. "Tell me," she prodded. "Don't think I'll drop it."

Tony sighed heavily. "Because it's powering an electromagnet that's keeping tiny pieces of shrapnel away from my heart." When her expression softened, he pulled her back against him.

"Oh my god," she said softly as her eyes moved back and forth between his and the reactor. "I… I don't know what to say."

"I've been making Darth Vader jokes about myself." He twisted his face into his best Alec Guinness expression, eliciting a chuckle from her. "He's more machine now than man, twisted and evil." Tipping her chin up with one finger, he dropped his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. "I've missed you so much."

"I missed you, too." Her lower lip began to quiver as a lone tear began making its way down her face. Taking his cut up and bruised face in her hands, she pressed her lips to his gently. She smiled against his lips when she felt him returning the kiss. "Pepper sent me a message as I was driving over here," she said slowly after they eventually broke apart for air. "Y-You shut down the weapons manufacturing div-"

"Something's going on. I don't know what it is yet, but something's not right. When a bomb falls in front of you that literally has your name on it…"

Holly's mouth fell open.

"I've got to figure out what's going on."

"If you need any help…"

"I won't ask you to do that. I can't. If something happened to you because you knew too much, I'd never be able to forgive myself. When I find something, and I will, I'll tell you when it's safe to tell you." He closed his eyes, squeezing her so tightly that he was pretty sure the arc reactor would leave an indentation in her skin. "I love you too much to let anything happen to you."

She gently pushed back on his shoulder. "I love you too, handsome, but I still need to breathe. It's kind of important, you know."

He shot her an apologetic glance before stealing a quick kiss.

 

When Pepper finally made it back to the Malibu house from the press conference fiasco two hours later, the house was eerily quiet. Holly's car was parked out front. All of Tony's cars were still in the garage. She half expected to open the door, hear or see proof of boisterous reunion sex, and just turn around and leave again. But the house was  _ silent _ . She couldn't even hear music playing or a television left on. Something was off.

She walked upstairs. Nobody was in the kitchen. Nobody was out on the patio.

She peered up the stairs and coughed. She'd go up just long enough to make sure no one was dead. There was still no sound as she reached the top and got closer to the master bedroom. Closing her eyes tightly, she braced herself for possible nudity. When she peeked around the doorframe, slowly opening one eye, she smiled. This certainly wasn't what she was expecting.

Holly, still clad in her black funeral dress, lay on her back only half under the covers. From the position of her hands, she'd fallen asleep while running her fingers through Tony's dark hair. Tony (surprisingly also clothed) lay on his right side with his arms tightly around her waist and his head resting just under the bust line of her dress. His mouth fell open slightly and a soft snore escaped when he turned his head, burying his nose in the soft black fabric.

_ Maybe it'll all work out.  _ She softly pulled the door to behind her as she left the room.

* * *

"Come on Rogers, you're almost there," Steve said through a heavy yawn. And he was almost there. He had less than thirty more feet to walk before he could collapse in the warmth and comfort of his own bed. Bed. He smiled tiredly as he turned the key in the deadbolt and pushed open the door to his apartment.

Flinging his leather coat across the back of the sofa, he dragged himself into the kitchen for a quick glass of water. He began unbuttoning his checkered shirt as he walked back across the kitchen and into the living room. He shook his head after a particularly deep yawn, only to see a tiny blinking red light out of the corner of his eye. Was that… He had a message on his answering machine.

He shook his head again. Maybe the light was a figment of his imagination. The early morning light might be playing tricks on him. Nope, the light continued blinking. He definitely had a message. That couldn't be right. No one ever called him, especially not on the landline phone.  _ That comes with the territory of all your friends from the war, save one, being dead.  _ Sure Holly called him from time to time, but she called on the cellular phone. He cautiously made his way over to the machine and pressed the play button, where the machine proceeded to inform him that the message was left yesterday.

" _ Hello, Steve, it's Peggy. I just wanted to let you know that you're actually on my television screen right now. It's been quite a while, I believe, since you've been in front of a camera… _ "

He laughed softly at her excited tone.

" _ Your Holiday clearly has a flair for the dramatic that her great-grandfather lacked. My lord, you look more like a walking flag than you did in your old uniform. You'll have to let me know if she followed his example and put something on a tag. Speaking of Holiday, I tried to get in touch with her when I started seeing the news coverage, but was unable to reach her. When you get this message, please phone at your earliest convenience. I'd like to make sure you're alright. I'm far too old to go searching for you again, Steve. _ "

Steve tilted his head up toward the ceiling, blinking back tears. He snatched the cordless phone from the charger and headed into the bedroom. Quickly changing into a white tee shirt and some clean pajama pants, he dialed the number he'd committed to memory the moment he saw it in the file. He reclined back onto the bed while the line rang, sighing contentedly when he felt his back pop.

" _ Hello? _ "

"Peggy? It's Steve. I just got your message."

" _ S-Steve? It's…five-thirty in the morning in New York. What are you doing awake? _ "

"I'm touched at your concern, but I haven't been to sleep yet really. I take that back, I slept for a few hours in a chair…"

" _ I happen to know that S.H.I.E.L.D. gave you an apartment. Why in heaven's name would you sleep in a chair? _ "

"I made a promise to Holly, and I kept it."

" _ Is she alright? _ "

"She will be. She fell and hurt her knee pretty bad. They had to do some surgery, and I promised that I'd be there when she woke up."

" _ She's lucky to have a friend like you, Steve. _ "

Steve smiled softly. "And I'm lucky to have a friend like her. She was a little bit put out that I managed to rip her uniform."

" _ I can't imagine that she'd be too happy. _ "

"You asked about a tag. I looked as I was taking it off."

" _ Was it as sarcastic as the other one? I trust she showed you. _ "

"Not even close. I think it was part of a poem, but I don't recognize it." He raised himself up from the bed and grabbed a scrap of paper out of his pants pocket. "It said:

' "The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost." Since you’ll once again be working with a Stark, this Morgan is going to do her best to keep him from blowing you up. –HRM'," he read slowly.

" _ Tolkien. _ "

He could hear the smile behind Peggy's response and let her continue.

" _ It must've been a rather large tag for her to get all that on there. _ "

"The print was very small. I'm afraid I don't get the reference…again," he admitted sadly.

" _ I'm sure she can loan you the series of books. She's trying to tell you that you're more important than you think. The rest will come once you've read the books. I wouldn't want to give anything away. _ "

The pair continued in conversation on various topics for almost a full half hour before his responses dropped off.

" _ Steve? Steve? _ "

No response…save for a soft snore. He couldn't see it, but an ocean away, Peggy was smiling.

" _ Goodnight, Steve. _ "

* * *

Meanwhile in Manhattan, Tony Stark woke up with a start, his heart pounding. Pushing himself up off the mattress, he looked past Pepper's sleeping form and squinted at the alarm clock that read 5:30 am. He shook his head and settled back down into the soft sheets, wrapping a protective arm around her slim waist.

…But it wasn't  _ her _ face that he'd seen in the nightmare. It wasn't Pepper's voice pleading with him to help her. It was Holly's face. It was Holly's voice calling out to him. " _ You always want to make things right. Make  _ this _ right, Tony, please. _ "

He sighed and pulled Pepper in closer. As soon as his eyes closed again in an effort to fall back asleep, they shot open again. Instead of the blackness of the inside of his eyelids, he again saw  _ her  _ face cut up and bleeding. He opened his eyes and shut them again hoping not to see her face again, but it wasn't to be.

If he couldn't sleep, he decided as he quietly climbed out of the bed, he'd at least go be semi-productive. Shuffling to the elevator and down to his lab, he flipped on the lights and grabbed a glass and the conveniently located bottle of scotch.

" _ Trouble sleeping, sir? _ "

Tony hummed sleepily in agreement before flopping down in his leather rolling chair. He did a quick mental scan of the room. So far nothing appeared damaged or missing… "I think we need some music in here, J," he yawned as he poured a healthy measure of the brown beverage into the glass. He rolled his head around to pop his neck while the opening strains of Led Zeppelin's "What Is and What Should Never Be" filled the room. "Skip. Not feeling Zeppelin right now."

Turns out, Tony wasn't feeling the next ten songs either.

"Too bad I don't have Holly's iPod to steal anymore," he huffed.

" _ Miss Morgan did always seem to have a playlist for every occasion. _ "

Point Break not only had a mean swing, he had a mean grip. He'd crushed part of the faceplate of the Mark VII armor when he yanked it off. Tony didn't notice that the music had stopped for a moment, only to start up again with a familiar orchestral-turned-rock song.

" _ I was searchin' on a one-way street. I was hopin' for a chance to meet. I was waitin' for the operator on the line… _ "

Tony smiled as his fingers ghosted over the dents and scratches in the face plate. He hadn't consciously listened to Electric Light Orchestra in…well, in four years if he was being honest. "She's gone so long, what can I do?" he sang softly with the upbeat song. "Where could she be? No no no, don't know what I'm gonna do. I gotta get back to you…"

* * *

Across the island, Holly sat up in the hard hospital bed and blew a raspberry. The searing pain in her knee had been reduced to a throb by the painkillers. Her dark eyes kept drifting closed, but her mind just wouldn't shut off. Reaching over to the nightstand, she pulled her laptop over onto the bed. If she couldn't sleep, she could at least do…something. Waking up her computer, she pressed play on a playlist entitled "Working Due to Inability to Sleep". She quickly swept her long hair up into a messy bun before opening a new project window.

She began to move her head side to side in time with the old song. "You gotta slow down sweet talkin' woman, slow down. You got me runnin', you got me searchin'. Hold on sweet talkin' lover, hold on. It's so sad if that's the way it's over…"

If she'd looked at the sidebar in her playlist, she would have seen that she was sharing her playlist with someone else…

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

By eight am, Holly was showered and dressed in some of the clothes Steve had brought for her (a black tank top and a pair of black and pink running shorts). She'd also managed to put on a full complement of makeup. Thanks to her inability to sleep, she convinced the passing nurse at six thirty to help her shower…as well as give her some more pain medicine. The rest of her morning, she decided, would be dedicated to finding out just why Phil Coulson hadn't come to see her.

So when Steve strolled through the hospital room at just after eleven, he was greeted with a harsh stare.

"So when were you going to tell me about Phil?" Holly asked sternly as she crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, Phil Coulson, my friend? I didn't know he was dead until I was offered condolences for a loss I didn't even know I had. Imagine my surprise…"

"Holly, you needed medical attention badly. There was nothing I could do for him, but I could help you. They teach you to take care of the injured soldier first. The dead can wait…"

She felt her throat begin to close up as she clenched her fists. She'd been given that same advice once upon a time. Four years on, Tony was better off not knowing… Wasn't he?

Sensing her distress, he quickly crossed the room and tossed his leather jacket over the chair. "I'm sorry. I…"

"Loki did it, didn't he?" she whispered as a tear began to slide down her face.

Steve nodded sadly, sinking slowly into the chair. "I never got to sign his cards," he admitted sadly.

* * *

Steve gently helped Holly out of the car and into her wheelchair at the cemetery. The imminent danger was gone. Thor had taken Loki back to Asgard two days ago, but the ever-present soldier mentality just wouldn't let him rest…not yet, and certainly not with his friend unable to get around without some sort of assistance. As much as she may hate having to stay in a S.H.I.E.L.D. dormitory room because part of her ceiling collapsed from a nearby blast during the attack, he was glad for her being there for now. If she needed help getting around, there were plenty of people to help with that.

Sensing a gentle tug on his arm as he pushed her toward the small seating area, he looked down at his grieving friend. His first thought, as most of them had been since she woke up post-surgery was to ascertain whether or not she was in pain. "What is it? Do you need to take another one of the…"

Holly cut him off with a quick shake of her head, eyeing Tony Stark and Pepper Potts on the other side of the aisle between the two rows of folding chairs. "Let's just go sit over here. The sun's too bright over there," she said, her voice laced with obvious discomfort.

When he quickly followed her line of sight over, the source of her unease revealed itself instantly. She didn't want to sit too close to Tony. He guided the chair to the end of the opposite row, just under a tree branch, and lowered himself into the hot metal seat next to her. His right arm circled around her bare shoulders once she settled.

He pushed his brown aviator sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose after she laid her head down against the lapel of his military dress coat with a sniffle. He hoped that the US pin in the top section wouldn't leave a mark on her pale cheek. Her strapless, knee-length black dress wouldn't have been considered appropriate funeral attire the last time he attended one, but times had definitely changed. A soft black cotton blanket rested over her lap for modesty since her left leg had to be propped up. Steve gently rested his chin on top of her sun-warmed brown hair just in front of the expertly done knot at the crown of her head.

 

Pressing a gentle kiss to Pepper's soft red hair, Tony sighed. The crowd for the funeral was going to be sparse, that was a given. There were only ten chairs under the tent that sheltered the freshly-dug grave. He watched as Agents Barton and Romanoff took two of the seats next to himself and Pepper. Once pleasantries had been exchanged, he peered through his dark sunglasses to the other set of seats.

Holly's lean left arm fell below the back of the folding chair, her hand gently curling into the back of Spangles' antiquated military dress uniform jacket. He found himself gritting his teeth unexpectedly at the sight of the two friends in such a close embrace, undoubtedly whispering some words of comfort to each other. For the second time in three days, that traitorous feeling of "that should be me" began creeping into his thoughts.

When the former-almost-Mrs.-Stark shifted and the black silk beaded bow at the left hip of the dress appeared around the side of the wheelchair, he clenched his fist (accidentally pinching Pepper in the process). Could he really blame her for recycling a dress? Not that his ex needed an excuse to go shopping, but "the world almost ended and I didn't get around to it, not to mention I can't walk" was an excuse to not go.

But why did she have to wear  _ that _ dress? He released a breath he wasn't even aware he'd been holding.  _ Sure Tony, save the world and see her again… Only she's going to wear the thousand dollar dress she used as pajamas because you used her as a pillow after Afghanistan. _ He forced himself to focus as the memory of just how wonderful it felt to…feel anything other than pain and terror came back.

A few minutes later, as the priest stood in front of the coffin that had been precariously perched over the grave, Holly closed her eyes and sighed. Phil told her once, a long time ago it seemed, that he had been raised Catholic. There weren't a lot of Catholics in Newport Beach or Malibu. The extent of her knowledge of Catholic funeral proceedings came entirely from Hollywood, chiefly  _ The Godfather  _ and  _ The Departed _ .

Steve stood slowly when the priest motioned for the gathered to stand. The round clergyman in front of them opened a book and cleared his throat. Steve knew exactly what was coming next. Between disease, the Depression, and the war, he'd been to far too many funerals. 

"…And let perpetual light shine upon them. He shall be justified in everlasting memory, and shall not fear evil reports."

Holly bit down on her lip as she stared intently at the beautiful flower arrangement atop the oak casket. The priest's words slowly began to fade into the background as a sob threatened to escape. She silently hoped that one day Loki would be brought back to earth. She'd love to take a swing at him, and not just because he wrecked her closet.

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

" _ You look lost," a kind male voice coming from behind her observed. _

_ Holly whipped around, her long brown hair smacking her in the face. Her dark eyes met those belonging to the voice. "Agent Coulson," she greeted with a smile. She at least knew one person in the building. "I am actually lost. I have no idea where the cafeteria is…and I'm hungry." _

_ The middle-aged agent in a black suit smiled. "I'm headed there myself. Care to tag along?" _

_ She breathed a quick sigh of relief. "That'd be great, thanks." _

_ He pointed her in the direction they needed to go, slowing his pace to walk beside her. "It's good to have you on board." _

" _ It was time for me to move out of California anyway." _

_ He couldn't help but pick up on the notes of sadness and regret in her voice. "Director Fury tells me that your great-grandfather was involved with Project Rebirth." _

_ Clutching her purse to her side, she looked up at her new acquaintance. The world was still buzzing with headlines speculating the reasons behind her split from "Iron Man". The rumors ranged from the almost accurate (she left him because of the "super hero" persona) to the outlandish and completely untrue (one of them was secretly gay and the other caught them in bed with a lover of the same gender). All of these stories in the "news", and this man wanted to talk about her great-grandfather's involvement with the project that created Captain America. "He was," she replied proudly. "He fabricated the uniform. That's why I got into the family business you unceremoniously stole me from in the first place" _

_ He bit the inside of his lip to contain his excitement. _

" _ Since you've clearly been in this racket for a while, tell me, are they ever going to resurrect the Super-Soldier thing?" _

_ Phil Coulson cleared his throat. "There was a quasi-attempt two years ago with disastrous results." When she cocked her head to the side, eyeing him with a confused look, he absentmindedly checked his watch. "Harlem hasn't been the same since." _

_ Holly's mouth fell open. She stopped dead in her tracks and grabbed the older man's arm. "Wait, that news report of a big green thing and a big brownish thing fighting each other wasn't fake?" _

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

Holly couldn't help but hope that Coulson, wherever he was, would forgive her. This was a solemn occasion, but she was about to lose it and laugh. All she could think of at this particular moment was Alec Baldwin turning toward Mark Walberg in  _ The Departed _ and asking: "How's your mother?", only to have Marky Mark turn and say: "Good. Tired from fucking my father."

"Forgive, O Lord, the souls of all the faithful departed from all the chains of their sins and by the aid to them of your grace may they deserve to avoid the judgment of the revenge, and enjoy the blessedness of everlasting light."

She forced herself to suppress a smile at the memory of Phil running the entire scene over with her in the hallway, much to the horror of three new recruits on their first day. Of course, the Director would have to walk in just as she turned to Phil and said in her best fake-Boston accent "Unfortunately, this shithole has more fucking leaks than the Iraqi Navy." That took a lot of backpedaling and explaining.

"May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace."


	9. Chapter Eight

_ August 30, 2008 _

_ Malibu, California _

_ 9:28 pm _

 

Holding the Ziploc bag full of ice against his sore shoulder with his chin, Tony carefully began to tape it into place with some medical tape he'd found lying around in his bathroom. He couldn't stop giggling…and he never  _ giggled _ . He could fly! His suit could fly! Alright, so maybe it'd still be fun to drive one of his sports cars from time to time, but he could definitely see the looks on people's faces when he popped out for a bottle of scotch in the suit.

The entire time he'd been airborne, reveling in the knowledge that he could now be his own plane, all he wanted to do was call Holly and shout his news the second he landed. For the past two years, she'd always been his first call the second he realized something worked. She'd probably drop everything and race across town to demand that he repeat his success so she could see. His face broke into a stupid grin at the mental image of her pouting when he inevitably told her that since she (thankfully) didn't have a circle of light in her sternum as well, she couldn't borrow the suit.

But he didn't call her.

It wasn't because of the fact that when he shut the thrusters off he fell through the ceiling and broke two of the things she loved the most about his house – the concert grand piano that only she seemed to ever play and the Cobra. If he called her gloating about his latest achievement, he'd have to tell her about the original suit in Afghanistan. He'd have to tell her about Yinsen and everything else. That was something he wasn't quite ready to do.

He plopped down in his rolling chair, half listening as J.A.R.V.I.S. began to run diagnostics on the silver suit before chiming in with new specifications for the color scheme. Taking a healthy swig of his smoothie, he sighed. He'd have to tell her sometime, and he would…eventually. He needed to make things right before he did that. He needed to be able to tell her that it all meant something.

" _ Sir, Miss Morgan is calling _ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. announced, halting Tony's train of thought.

"Let it go to voicemail," he replied dismissively, taking another sip of his drink with a heavy sigh. Just as he tried to return to his previous thought, he realized he couldn't, not as long as Holly's voice filled the room as she left a message. His heart almost stopped when he recognized her shaky tone of voice.

" _ Hey handsome, it's me. Uh… It's about 9:30. You're probably working on whatever you've been up to for the past week and told J.A.R.V.I.S. to send me to voicemail so I don't interrupt you. I uh… I'm not feeling too hot right now, so I'm going to head to bed. I just wanted to call and remind you not to work too hard. I-I love you, Tony. Get some sleep… _ "

"J.A.R.V.I.S., pick up. I want to talk to her," Tony whispered. Just because he wasn't ready to tell her everything didn't mean that he couldn't talk to her for a little while. "Hey."

" _ Hey! I was just leaving you a message. _ "

He couldn't help but smile at her suddenly more upbeat voice. "Are you okay? You said something about not feeling well."

" _ I've just got a headache that I can't shake, nothing major. _ "

"Did you take anything for it?" Small talk. He hated small talk. She hadn't questioned him about what he was up to. Something wasn't right, but he just couldn't put his finger on it.

" _ Yeah, I took some Advil about ten minutes ago. I'm just waiting for it to kick in at this point. Maybe uh… Maybe when you're done with your little project and I'm done policing interns around R&D, you can show me what's been keeping you so busy. _ "

"Sounds like a plan. Maybe we can even go away for a little while. After all that's happened, I think the best thing for me would be for you to just not put clothes on for a couple days." When she began to laugh softly, he did too. He could see her face in his mind, clear as day. She was undoubtedly shaking her head as she pretended to be slightly annoyed but was still smiling because she knew he was right. They both needed to get away.

" _ We'll see. It'll depend on exactly what it is you're cooking up down there _ ."

Tony slowly opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out the small black velvet box that had just been hand delivered that morning. "I think you'll like it," he retorted smugly.

" _ Do I get a hint _ ?"

"Nope, it's a surprise." He quietly opened the hinged box, removing a large diamond ring from its resting place inside. "Now," he began, his voice softening in concern. "You need to get some sleep and feel better."

" _ I'll get some sleep if you do. I know you. When you've got an idea, you don't sleep until you've built it. _ "

"I'll be in bed by one, I promise."

" _ You better be. I love you, Tony _ ."

"I love you too. 'Night."

" _ Goodnight _ ."

After she ended the call, Tony reclined in the chair, holding the ring up to the fluorescent lights in the ceiling and watching as the facets of the center stone reflected the light onto the silver suit. Holly still had another two and a half weeks with the interns at Morgan. He had until then to make everything right.

Once he had, he'd show her the suit, tell her everything, and deliver a long overdue marriage proposal. Three months in a cave certainly can make one reorder their priorities…

* * *

_ Transcription of recorded interview between Morgan, Holiday and Everheart, Christine (for  _ Vanity Fair _ ) _

_ Piece Title: "'The Da Vinci of Our Time' or 'Merchant of Death'?" _

_ May 15, 2008 _

_ Malibu, California _

 

**Everheart:** Miss Morgan, Christine Everheart with  _ Vanity Fair _ . Do you have a minute to answer a couple of questions?

**Morgan** : I'm actually on my way to an appointment…

**Everheart** : I'll make it quick, I promise. I'm doing an article on Tony Stark and was trying to get some background.

**Morgan** : I… I don't know if I'm comfortable with this. My relationship with Mister Stark is mostly personal.

**Everheart** : I understand, but I'm not looking for something you'd find in a tabloid. You also have a professional relationship with him. That's what I'm interested in.

**Morgan** : Alright. I guess I can spare a few minutes.

**Everheart:** Great! Can you comment on the rumor that once the Jericho demonstration happens this week there will be a Stark-Morgan business merger?

**Morgan** : [laughs] If it happens, it'll be news to me. Despite my last name, I'd much rather be down in my lab being head of R&D than in a boardroom making decisions. That being said, I'm sure that if something as big as a merger was to be in the cards, they'd tell me. Since they haven't, I'm going to go ahead and say that it's just a rumor.

**Everheart:** Well then can you comment on the rumor that you were involved with the Jericho development?

**Morgan** : I can comment to an extent. I can say that yes, I was involved. Tony approached me shortly after I'd filed my first patent about possibly using my material in a weapon. We discussed it and came to an agreement. I can't say much more than that, sorry.

**Everheart:** I know I said I was looking to explore the professional relationship, but I do have a semi-personal question. If you don't want to answer, don't.

**Morgan** : Alright.

**Everheart:** Can you describe a little bit about how it feels to be in a working as well as romantic relationship with the man that some have called 'The Da Vinci of Our Time'?

**Morgan** : It's great. I've learned so much from him. He's a certified genius, and that can be intimidating even after we've been together for two years. He can be intimidating in a boardroom. He can be intimidating in his personal lab. When he first approached me about this project, I was nervous. We'd been together for just over a year. I brought my notes and everything I would need to see if we could work something out to his lab at his house…and I was almost shaking. Professionally, it's been a true privilege to work with him. When you see his enthusiasm for his work, it's hard not to be excited yourself. I'm happy that we were able to get together on this project. I was admittedly concerned about the possible toll working with him professionally would have on our personal relationship at first.

**Everheart:** You say 'at first'…

**Morgan** : Up until the moment where I began participating in this project, I had only ever worked on team projects in school and within Morgan Defense & Armor. Leading up to this, the only thing Tony and I had ever worked on was one of his cars. We just finished rebuilding a '32 Ford the other day, but I think he's still going to keep tinkering. Anyway… I'd never worked with him in any capacity other than a personal project. I was worried that we'd get into arguments over the professional side of things and it'd take a serious toll on 'us'. After we got the ball rolling on my involvement in the Jericho project, I had a moment of realization. We never had an argument while working. A debate, sure, we had a couple of those. But as it turns out, I was worried for nothing. It was absolutely phenomenal working with him on something that he's passionate about. Sure, he was passionate about the cars that we've worked on, but it's different when it's a project with his name on it. Being able to share milestones, like my first collaborative project with someone outside of any normal business relationships, with someone you love is…surreal.

**Everheart:** What do you have to say to those people who think that you're only in a romantic relationship with him to bolster your own resume?

**Morgan** : I'd just point out the fact that we were together romantically long before this project got off the ground. On top of that, we've known each other for years socially. I knew his late father and mother as well. Now, I can't deny that this hasn't helped my resume. I'd be a fool to say that. This project is now something I can put on my CV. It may help me in the long run, or the topic may never come up again. Who knows?

**Everheart:** One final question for you, Miss Morgan…

**Morgan** : Make it fast, please. I rambled a bit too much, and now I'm running a little behind schedule. I'm sorry.

**Everheart:** Okay, fast. You just spoke about this close and wonderful relationship with Mister Stark. It must hard to keep being close when the relationship is so crowded.

**Morgan** : Crowded? I'm afraid I don't catch your meaning.

**Everheart:** Do you have any comment on the rumor that out of the thirteen  _ Maxim _ cover models for 2007, Tony Stark slept with twelve of them?

**Morgan** : Who told you that?

**Everheart:** I don't have to name my source. You know that. But I will tell you that the source is impeachable.

**Morgan:** Legally, you don't have to tell anyone, no. But when a libel suit gets brought, Tony'll need to know the name.

**Everheart:** Do you have any comment?

**Morgan:** Go fuck yourself.


	10. Chapter Nine

_There's no salvation for me now_

_No space among the clouds_

_And I've seen that I'm heading down_

_But that's alright…_

_And I've been taking chances_

_I've been setting myself up for the fall_

_I've been keeping secrets,_

_From my heart and from my soul…_

 

"Ready?" Steve asked as Holly looped her right arm through his offered left one, leaning heavily on him for support as she reached back into the limousine for her much-hated crutches. It'd been almost two months since her injury. She'd gone from wheelchairs to crutches while wearing a plaster cast. The plaster cast had been removed the week before in favor of a locking brace to keep her knee immobilized unless she was working with her physical therapist. With no new mission, he had busied himself with helping his friend (who was still living in the basement of S.H.I.E.L.D. due to lack of available contractors to repair her ceiling).

"Me?" she chuckled. "I've been coming to things like this since I was a fetus. These things were always more my grandmother's bag. My grandfather used to joke that the Academy should give us Best Actor and Best Actress one year to compensate for all the pain from fake smiling. It's all a game." Taking a deep breath and releasing her grip on her friend's arm, she motioned for him to begin walking under the Park Avenue awning of the Waldorf-Astoria.

"Then you'll have to teach me how to play," he whispered, suddenly feeling ill at ease among the fabled Art Deco décor he'd so longed to see. There was no way he was ready to do this. He felt more like a dancing monkey in the tuxedo he currently sported than in the suit he'd worn to do the bond tours.

 

" _And those are your only two options – a lab rat or a dancing monkey? You were meant for more than this, you know. What?"_

" _You know, for the longest time, I dreamed about…coming overseas and being on the front lines, serving my country. I finally got everything I wanted…and I'm wearing tights."_

 

Sighing heavily, he went on auto-pilot and let Holly direct him toward the ballroom. Now he had almost nothing he wanted and wasn't wearing tights. Why did he ever tell Stark that he would come to this? Clearly he could have saved himself a considerable amount of grief if he'd just declined the already paid for set of tickets. He could have saved some for Holly, too. He wouldn't have had to ask her to be his "date" for the evening if he didn't cave into Stark's peer pressure. When his eyes fell upon a Red Cross volunteer checking people in before they entered the room, he remembered why he'd accepted.

Once the pair had been safely checked in, Holly paused to straighten her dress before looking back up at Steve. "Rule number one – smile. Rule number two – be polite even if you don't want to," she quipped as they walked into the ornate ballroom.

 

Across the room, Tony Stark gratefully accepted a second tumbler of scotch from the young bartender. Throwing this shindig had been the right thing to do. He'd pay for everything and give the income from the high ticket price to the Red Cross. Parts of the city were still in ruins…and it was partially his fault. He took a generous drink of the expensive brown liquid in his glass, letting the alcohol warm him as he looked around the room. Pepper was, of course, schmoozing someone from some committee or another. She was much better at "polite" conversation than he ever was.

He almost choked on his second sip at the sight of the next couple dressed to the nines that crossed into the room. He'd expected Rogers to somehow get his hands on a tux (probably through Holly since he wasn't exactly the most social creature), but what he didn't expect was for his ex-girlfriend to be on Rogers' arm. Well…as much "on his arm" as she could be while she was on crutches. Glancing down into his glass quickly then back up at her, he nodded sadly. Her voluminous nude dress hid the brace on her leg as the blue leaf and vine embroidery cascaded from the cap sleeves to her knees. As the pair turned to pick up glasses of champagne, he glimpsed the loose knot that held her long, dark curls up off of her…surprisingly bare back. He couldn't help but smile.

Holly smiled when Colonel James Rhodes waved at her from across the room. Motioning for Steve to follow her, she hobbled over to him and greeted him with the closest thing she could muster to a hug.

Tony couldn't help but watch her happily chatter away, presumably introducing the two officers. Rolling his eyes after setting his drink back onto the bar, he slid off the stool he'd been warming and crossed the room. "Rogers didn't tell me that you were his plus one, Miss Morgan," he purred as his hand, cold from holding drinks all evening, came into contact with the warm skin of her back. He let out a laugh when she jumped slightly. When she turned around, his heart sank. He'd seen that particular half smile before. She told him herself once upon a time that it was as fake as her then-blonde hair.

"I didn't know I was his plus one until yesterday," she replied with mock sweetness, motioning toward her dress. "This is off the rack."

He clapped his other hand over his mouth. "God forbid. I guess it's a good thing you're still…" Trailing off, he cast his eyes to the back of the dress before looking back into her eyes. "…basically a perfect size eight then."

Steve turned his head and looked back at Colonel Rhodes, who was struggling to hold a straight face. When the younger man shrugged in resignation, Steve again faced the display.

"Perhaps you should return to your other guests instead of guessing my dress size." Balancing her weight on one of the crutches, she put a hand on his shoulder and leaned up to whisper in his ear. "It's a size ten, by the way. Always has been."

"Well regardless of the size, you look wonderful." He gently removed her hand from his shoulder and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

She tilted her head to the side and rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Tony?"

"I'm hurt, Morgan. I'd ask if chivalry was dead, but Sir Lancelot over there is the poster child for it."

When he began rubbing a thumb over the top of her right hand that had once again curled around the grip of the crutch, she gently swatted him in the shin with the metal support. "Lancelot isn't a good example of chivalry. He fucked King Arthur's wife and Guinevere blamed him for destroying the Round Table. I think that metaphor is best used _elsewhere_."

With a smile as fake as her previous one spreading across his face when he caught her meaning, Tony drew her close to him by putting an arm around her shoulders. "Fine. That wasn't the best of examples. But what kind of one are you setting for the Golden Retriever over there that you're trying to housebreak?"

"Knock it off, Tony," Rhodey warned. He knew his old friend liked to tease and get under people's skin, but did he seriously have to do it just now?

"I'd like to talk some business," Tony continued with a serious tone, only partially ignoring his friend.

Shaking her head, she looked up at him in disbelief. "Are you asking me as Tony Stark or as Iron Man?" she asked wearily. If he was asking as his alter ego, she'd have to listen. God, _why_ did she let them put in her contract that if an Avenger asked her to make something she had to say yes?

"Iron Man."

Holly groaned. "Of course you are. If you ask as Iron Man, you know I have to listen."

All traces of a smile left Tony's face as his lips formed a thin, straight line. "I'm serious. If you don't want to talk here, then name the time and place."

"Alright, fine," she resigned tiredly. "Can we sit down though? I don't think I can stand up much longer."

His expression softened and he pointed toward the nearest vacant table. His hand fell from her shoulder to the middle of her back for support. When she looked at him skeptically and backed away slightly, he put his hand back again.

She tightened her grip on her crutches as he began to cautiously lead her toward a table. She chanced a reassuring glance back over her shoulder at Steve.

"Want a drink while we talk?" Tony asked as he helped Holly down into a plush chair. He shuddered as his fingers inadvertently ran up most of the length of her back as she slid down into a sitting position. "Wine?" At her nod, he flagged down a circling waiter and ordered a round of beverages.

She began to absentmindedly pick at the corner where part of the embroidery met the tulle skirt of the princess-style gown.

"Why the long face, Morgan?" he asked, quickly plucking the healthy glass of red wine from the waiter's hand as well as his own glass of scotch. "I know for a fact that you can't be sad when there's Merlot."

Gratefully accepting the offered glass, she inhaled deeply before taking the first sip. "I seem to remember you comparing me to Heidi Fleiss after we did business the last time. You'll have to excuse my reluctance to put myself in a similar position again."

He sighed heavily before tilting his head to meet her gaze. "It slipped out in the heat of the moment." When she made her disbelief known by crossing her arms over her chest, he continued. "I find myself in need of a product that ironically only you can provide…"

 

Despite her reassuring look, Steve felt a need to stay close. Well, not as close as Tony was sitting to Holly at the table, but still close enough. Looking at the former couple with arms over his chest, he could almost _feel_ her annoyance from his vantage point. Then, he watched as the annoyance faded into her puzzle solving mode as Howard's son began motioning toward his arms and chest as he talked. Taking another sip of his glass of Budweiser (something else that at least taste-wise hadn't changed much), the wheels in his head kept turning.

"Nice to see that they still remember how to be semi-civil in public," Pepper Potts said softly, running her finger up and down the side of the cool champagne flute in her hand.

Steve turned around at the sound of the voice. "Miss Potts…"

With a polite grin, she waved away the formality. "Pepper, please." She shifted her gaze back toward the table that both she and Steve were eyeing. "I wonder what they're cooking up over there."

"Probably something that wouldn't make sense to the rest of us but will cure the common cold," he commented dryly.

Nodding slowly, she moved to stand beside him. "If we'd stumbled onto this scene a couple of years ago, I could tell you exactly what they were doing. Did she tell you that he did design something with her once upon a time?"

Steve shook his head in disbelief. "No she didn't."

"It's a bit of a touchy subject now. She made part of the shell of a weapon for him. I-I don't know how much you've found out about Tony since you've been…back, but it was called the Jericho."

Jericho? Why did that name ring a bell… Suddenly a little light bulb lit up in the back of his mind. "I saw some footage of Sta—Tony on a demonstration in Afghanistan..."

"That's the one," she interrupted. Downing the remaining contents of the glass, she shrugged her shoulders. "The last weapon he designed. Well, I guess that depends on how you view the suit…" Her stomach dropped as she spotted a familiar blonde across the room. "Oh no," Pepper whispered.

Steve quickly set his glass down on the nearest flat surface and slipped into soldier mode at the sound of the panic in the woman's voice. "What?"

She began quickly fumbling for her cell phone. "Have you ever looked back on your life and realized that there was one person who just…threw a wrench in your life plan?"

"More than once," he replied sadly.

She quickly pressed send on the cold touch screen of the phone and pointed toward Tony and Holly. "That woman drove a Mack truck through theirs. And this time, Holly Morgan is armed." Waving a hasty goodbye to the soldier, she grabbed the skirt of her gown with her free hand and began to jog toward the unwanted guest.

Just before she left earshot, Steve heard a name: Christine Everheart. He also heard the title of a magazine: _Vanity Fair_.

"So you want something like the underlayment of Steve's suit to go underneath the armor," Holly mused, grabbing a cocktail napkin and motioning for Tony to give her a pen. "Are we wanting full body suit like long johns or…"

"Preferably not that, but I defer to your good judgment. If it works, I can make adjustments."

Clicking the pen open, she began to sketch on the napkin. "Is a lot of the weight of the top of the suit more resting on your shoulders?" At his nod, she made a quick note with an arrow pointing to the shoulders in her sketch. "Do you need a cutout for the reactor?"

"No. The top's not what I'm worried about. I'm concerned about utility," he admitted as she began to draw a pair of pants.

"Utility?"

Taking another sip of his drink, he scooted his chair up next to hers to be closer to the drawing. "I've kind of got multiple suits at this point with more on the way. I've been tinkering with different ideas."

She looked between Tony and the drawing several times and bit the inside of her lip as she considered the answer. "Utility depends on how many pieces this is going to be."

"You know I'll pay you…"

Holly finally stopped drawing and dropped the pen to the table. "It's not a question of money, Tony. You asked as Iron Man. When you do that, S.H.I.E.L.D. pays me. It affects the strength of the underlayment. And you certainly don't want to sacrifice quality just in case your life may depend on it." She slid the crude drawing and notes out from in front of her and into his hand. She smiled as he eyed the black scribbles and nodded in agreement.

Tony slowly slid the drawing back. "We both should probably get back to the party before someone starts to think we're up to something. What are you doing tomorrow night at about eight-ish?"

"Nothing that I know of," she said after mentally going over her to-do list. "Why?"

"Why don't you work your magic with this in the morning and stop by the Tower tomorrow night around then and we'll go over specifics and pick a color?" Standing up from the table, he extended a hand down to help her up.

She quickly scooped up the pen and napkin and accepted the offered hand. "Maybe the Tower isn't the right place, Tony…" Once she found herself steady on her crutches, she thought her heart might stop. Her grip tightened around the pen and drawing as she squared her jaw.

"Go over specifics for what?"

Tony squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of the eerily familiar voice before turning around. When he identified the speaker, he instinctively took a gentle hold of Holly's elbow as a nervous knot settled in the pit of his stomach. "Don't answer her this time," he whispered in her ear as he began to lead her away. "She's not worth it, believe me."

"Are you two collaborating on another project?" the female voice asked.

He squeezed his eyes shut when he felt Holly tense up. This was his damn fault. He pivoted on the ball of his left foot and faced the voice. "Why are you here, Miss Everheart? You certainly didn't warrant an invitation."

" _Vanity Fair_ felt that the first social event after the attack on Manhattan should be covered, so here I am." Christine Everheart smiled sweetly. "So, are you two collaborating again?"

"No comment," Tony growled, using every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep himself from saying or doing anything that would make the papers.

"The last time you two collaborated was over a weapon. You're not getting back into weapons manufacturing, are you, Mister Stark?"

Biting the inside of his lip, he realized that he had to put his foot down. "I'm working on a personal project. I've run into a snag that requires Miss Morgan's professional opinion."

"A personal project like the Iron Man suit? Whatever happened to 'bricks and beams for baby hospitals'?"

"It's called a 'personal project' for a reason," Holly retorted sarcastically, finally breaking her silence. The only reason the reporter in front of her was still breathing was the realization that Holly came to four years earlier – she wouldn't last thirty seconds in a jail cell for an assault conviction.

"Holly, don't," he warned. He moved his hand down from her elbow and curled it protectively around her waist. He could feel her begin to shake against his touch. As much as it might have delighted Tony to watch Holly beat the reporter senseless with her crutches, the last thing either of them needed was for her to get arrested. Just as he began to reach for her, he caught a glimpse of Happy quickly closing in on the reporter's left flank.

The second Holly saw Happy's large hand close over the blonde's slender shoulder, she tried to slow her accelerated heartbeat. "I'll see you tomorrow. It was a lovely party."

"Where are you going?" He watched out of the corner of his eye as Happy gracefully escorted the unwanted guest out of the room.

"To the closest thing I've got to a home right now. I can't… I've gotta… I can't stay." When she felt Tony's steadying hand still on her arm, she shot him a pleading look. "Please."

 

Tony ambled slowly towards the door a few moments later, the effects of the two additional drinks he'd downed one after the other in the wake of Miss Everheart's appearance beginning to manifest. Had he not caught a glimpse of the living legend himself reaching out, he would have attributed the sudden feeling of flight to the alcohol. He quickly found himself outside his own party face-to-face with Captain Perfect.

"What in the hell was that, Stark?" Steve asked roughly, still holding the shorter man by the lapels.

Holly quickly ducked behind one of the giant marble pillars. She'd been fumbling around in her clutch looking for her keys. If she tried to walk down the steps now, Steve or Tony would see her (they'd definitely hear her, too). She listened in on the conversation.

"I should ask you what the hell you're doing carrying me out of my own party!" He moved to shove Steve away, his hands connecting with solid muscle. "Why aren't you running after your girlfriend?"

"Holly _isn't_ my girlfriend. Never has been," he commented. "What kind of game are you playing, Tony?"

"I'm not playing anything, _Steve_."

"Well, playing dumb certainly doesn't suit you." He glared down at him as Tony turned to walk back inside. "What kind of a man makes a scene at his own party with his old girlfriend?"

He stopped, whirling around to face Steve. "How in the _hell_ do you know? I certainly didn't tell you, and Holly wouldn't have." He sneered. "It's like I'm her dirty little secret."

Holly couldn't see her ex's face, but she knew the look that accompanied that tone. She never told anyone about her relationship with Tony because she wanted to be something more than "Tony Stark's Leftovers". Was that how Tony saw her now, "a dirty little secret"?

"Peggy told me."

Tony let out a sarcastic laugh. "Who got all her information second-hand from Holly's bitch of a grandmother? You've got some really reliable information there, Rogers. Two old bats who have nothing better to do but gossip across the Atlantic all day? You couldn't have done any better if you'd actually gotten some real information."

"How dare you talk about Peggy like that?" the super-soldier asked in a threatening whisper. "Her grandmother thought you were going to propose to her, not dump her!"

"Go fuck yourself, Rogers. You don't know anything." Tony resumed walking back into the party.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Steve called after him. "You must have done something for her to pack up her life and move three thousand miles to get away from you." He paused, thinking back to the conversation with Peggy. "She wasn't enough for you, was she? How could you do…"

She gasped, almost giving away both her position and presence when Tony rapidly closed the distance between the two men and grabbed Steve by the bowtie. Holly quickly caught her crutch that she almost dropped before it clattered to the ground.

Just as quickly as he made the grab for Steve's suit, he let go and turned away. He let out a short burst of breathy laughter to try to prevent the forming tears from falling. "She was more than enough for me, actually. For the first time in my life, I found myself thinking in terms of…something other than myself. I never deserved her for a second, but that didn't stop me from loving her."

Relaxing from his battle stance, Steve realized the other man was sincere.

"The only reason I'm telling you this is so you can get your facts straight, Rogers." He looked up at the clear night sky before turning back to look Steve in the eye. "That woman who started the scene you accused me of starting is the reason that _your_ friend isn't my wife right now. Before I got lost in a cave, that woman outright lied to Holly. Holly believed her. I had a moment of weakness. That doesn't excuse what I did for a minute, but that's what happened. After I got back, I asked her to marry me. She said no. She found out what I'd done and left _me_ ," he ground out, putting emphasis on the fact that it was her decision, not his. Turning to re-enter the building, he paused and looked back. He saw the dumbstruck look on the face of the man he'd grown up idolizing. "If you want to carry someone out of the party, go find Miss Everheart and throw her into the nearest dumpster where she belongs," Tony suggested roughly before continuing back into the building.

Holly finally stepped out from behind the pillar when she watched Tony go inside out of the corner of her eye. "So, did Peggy tell you any other details about my personal life?"

He jumped in surprise, turning quickly to face his friend. "H-How much of that did you hear?" he asked, knowing full well she'd heard it all.

"I heard every word, Steve. You know I did."

"When you told me about the man you left but compared everyone else to…"

"Tony."

"Why did you lie to me?"

Holly shook her head as she pulled her hair free from the up-do. "Admittedly, part of the reason was that no girl likes to admit she's been cheated on. There were things going on in my head at the time, Steve. You have to understand that. Tony went missing, my grandfather slipped into a coma and died, and I was hospitalized. Maybe I would have forgiven him if my head didn't feel like someone put my brain in a blender."

He ducked his head to look up into her dark eyes that told him there was much more to this story. "There's something you're not telling me."

"Maybe, but the real reason I lied was what just happened. Fuck, I never even wanted you to know that we were ever together in the first place." She sighed heavily. "The 'Avengers Initiative' was one of the worst kept secrets ever if you had the right security clearance. As soon as you woke up from the ice and your name was put on that list with Tony's… I didn't want knowing what happened to change the way you and Tony worked on a team together."

"I swear, I wouldn't have said anything had that…"

"And I don't blame you or Peggy for telling you," she continued, ignoring completely his attempt at an explanation. "She didn't know the whole story either. It probably came up in conversation while you were with her. But anyways, now you know. I'm sorry I kept it from you, but hopefully you understand why." At his nod, she let out a slow yawn. "I've got to get out of this dress."

* * *

 

_September 29, 2008_

_Malibu, California_

 

Holly slowly descended the familiar steps down to Tony's basement garage with a head full of questions. She gripped the handrail tightly in the vain hope that her anger would dissipate. When she reached the glass door, she punched in her personal code that he gave her before she left his house after her first time there two years earlier.

"Good afternoon, Miss Morgan. Mister Stark is about five minutes out. Is there anything you need?" the AI asked softly as if he could sense something was amiss.

"No thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S.. I just need to think, to try to process this," she responded, plopping herself down on the leather sofa in front of the flat screen television just inside the room and dropped her head into her hands. So the secret project he'd been working on in his basement was…some kind of space suit or something. What about that could be so bad that he couldn't tell her? She lifted her head a few minutes later when she heard the beeping of a code being entered into the door. Quickly smoothing her skirt, she stood up. "Hi," she said softly.

"Hey you," he replied, trying to hide the guilty look on his face. "So I assume you saw all of that."

Holly nodded, pointing at the gold and "hot rod red" suit hanging by one of the work-benches finally uncovered. She couldn't help but smirk slightly at the realization that it matched the old Deuce Coupe hot rod. "And I assume that suit is what you've been down here working on." She folded her arms across her waist protectively, rubbing at an imaginary scuff on the concrete floor with her shoe.

He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "Something like that. I-I'm sorry, Hol."

She began chewing on her right index fingernail as she stared at the metal suit. "And here I thought you were just ignoring me." She pressed a gentle touch to the glass circle in the middle of the chest piece of the suit. "I'm guessing your new hardware powers the suit."

Tony nodded, coming up behind her and circling his arms around her waist. He sighed in relief when she relaxed against him as he finally told her all about the original suit made out of weapon parts, Yinsen saving his life, Gulmira, and Stane.

Holly turned in his arms to face him. "You've been busy," she whispered, straightening a wrinkle in his gold patterned tie that only she could see. "I'm a little hurt that I wasn't in on the fun."

"I-I wanted to keep you safe. The less you knew, the better, remember? Obie could have come after you, too." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "I told you that I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you because of me."

"I appreciate it, Tony, but you know that I can take care of myself. I'd much rather be informed and prepared than kept in the dark."

"I know you can. That's part of the reason I love you so much. You're not a damsel in distress."

She'd never get to say what she came to say at this rate. When he quickly broke away and half jogged over to his desk, she knew it would at least be a long conversation. "Tony, I… I need to talk to you."

"What a coincidence, I need to talk to you too." Opening the desk drawer, he produced the small black velvet box. "I should have given this to you a long time ago," he admitted, completely ignoring her desire for an audience.

Holly began to take long, deep breaths in an attempt to slow her heart rate. There was no mistaking what the small box was. "W-What are you doing?"

"Remember when I said that I had a surprise for you?" At her cautious nod, he motioned toward the suit. "I'd just gotten back from flying that thing for the first time. I almost called you so many times, but I couldn't just say that I was flying around Malibu without explaining everything else. I was so excited." He smiled. "You've always been my first call." Placing the box in her hands, he pulled her against him and rested his forehead against hers. "I actually talked with Michael a couple of weeks before the demonstration. He said he'd be honored if I asked."

Her breathing quickened into little more than a series of gasps as it felt like her ribs were squeezing her lungs in a vice grip.

"Open it, please," he whispered, waiting with baited breath to gauge her reaction.

She slowly opened the box, revealing a rather impressive engagement ring. The large center diamond was circled by bead-set diamonds as well as a diamond band. She was no expert, but the ring had to be almost three carats and possibly set in platinum.

"I've made everything else right, now I want to make it right with you," he sighed. "Marry me, Holly."

She felt her hands shaking as she looked down at the small box she held. Holly closed her eyes tightly as a thousand thoughts came swirling to mind. She opened her mouth to answer before closing it quickly. The last thing she thought would come to mind at this juncture did.

She had been planning to leave him the moment he got back before she knew he was missing.

She had been planning to leave him because of one simple reason.

Tony shut his eyes tightly as his hands held her waist even tighter. "Please say something."

_Do you have any comment on the rumor that out of the thirteen Maxim cover models for 2007, Tony Stark slept with twelve of them? …I will tell you that the source is impeachable._

That reporter's annoying voice kept echoing in her mind. The more that little sound bite repeated on loop, the more infuriated she became. She snapped the box shut. "I can't."

"Wha—Why? I… What's going on?" he stammered, taking a step back from his girlfriend. "I don't understand."

Tossing the most expensive piece of jewelry she'd ever held haphazardly onto the work-bench, she shook her head at his flabbergasted expression. "I'll tell you what I don't understand. I've been trying to wrap my mind around it for four months now. I don't understand how the _fuck_ you thought you'd do it and I'd never find out."

Tony grabbed her arm to plead with her. "Baby, you found out about the suit the same time everyone else did. Well, except for Pepper. And Obie. Pepper caught me in the act, so it was a little different…" Realizing he was drifting, he shook his head. "And I already told you why I couldn't tell you of all people until now."

"Tony, it's not about the suit. It never has been. Let's pretend for a moment that I said yes to your proposal and we made it to the altar. Were you just going to cross your fingers when they made you promise to 'forsake all others'?"

He released her arm, dumbfounded. "What are you getting at?"

"Didn't you wonder why all of the stuff I was keeping here was gone when you got back?" Holly looked up at the ceiling, realizing quickly that she had lost the battle against her tears.

"I… I don't think I paid that much attention…"

"The _minute_ I knew you were airborne, I came and cleaned all my stuff out of here. J.A.R.V.I.S. transferred my files and scrubbed your server to make sure you couldn't get back at them. I was going to tell you to go to hell and take whoever was wearing your dress shirt that was soaked in someone else's trashy Ed Hardy perfume with you the moment you landed." Wiping tears off her cheeks with the palms of her hands, she reached for the nearest heavy object – a socket wrench.

Tony ducked instinctively when she hurled the wrench at his head in frustration. He couldn't stop the sigh of relief that slipped out when the flying object sailed right over the Saleen S7 behind him and came into contact with the concrete wall with a crack. Shutting his eyes tightly, Tony clapped a hand over his mouth and stared up at the cold concrete ceiling. "Baby… Oh god, I… I'm sorry. Y-You were… Something was wrong I think, and you kept blowing me off."

"And instead of asking me what was wrong, you… You just fucked someone else? Tony even for you that doesn't make a damn bit of sense. And not just one other person, thirteen. How the fuck did you have _time_ to do that?"

At that instant, the conversation began to run together. The couple began talking at the same time on completely different topics.

"I mean, for god's sake, twelve _Maxim_ cover models. That's not even subtle. Like it's not even a secret anymore. A reporter approached me about it before you left. She said she was from…"

"She approached me about a piece for…"

"… _Vanity Fair_ ," they said in unison. Both parties froze, looking at each other with equal parts disbelief and disgust.

"What was her name?" Holly asked, finally breaking the silence.

"I-I don't remember. Wait, what is this about _Maxim_ models?" As soon as the words left his lips, he cringed. He'd heard the rumor floating around before he left for Afghanistan, but had brushed it off. He still had his subscription to the famous magazine, his relationship with Holly notwithstanding. They had interesting articles from time to time. But the only time he didn't deny the rumor was… Not that the three soldiers in the "fun-vee" lived long enough to tell anyone else.

"She caught me when I was on my way to watch them pack up the Jericho. She asked me to comment on the rumor. Her name was Christine Everheart, not that _I'll_ ever forget. She said her source was sound. I told her to go fuck herself." Holly paused, letting out a sad laugh. "But clearly she fucked you."

"I know you don't believe me, but I swear, the _Maxim_ girls? That whole thing was a rumor."

"She said her source was solid."

"I… I don't know what to tell you. I heard it the first time and laughed. I jokingly confirmed it once."

"So her source was you or whoever you told."

"It couldn't have been. She came to see you _before_ I left, right?" At her nod, he continued. "The only three people who heard me confirm it were the three soldiers in the humvee with me…and they're all dead. So I don't know who this 'source' is or was, but I swear it's not true."

Holly took two steps back, resting her chin on her folded hands in thought. "Let's say I believe you, Tony. Let's just say that I for _one second_ believe that this is some kind of cosmic set up and you're innocent."

"It is."

"I don't believe you for a second, but let's pretend that I do. That shirt on the floor covered in eau de slut is pretty damning evidence of something. And I'm guessing it's that reporter. Am I right?" When his only response was a faint "yeah", she crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him.

"Why didn't you stick to your plan? Why haven't you said anything before now?"

She looked back over her shoulder at Tony. He'd just handed her an opening to say what she'd come to say on a silver platter. She could say her piece and be done. Sucking the inside corner of her lip between her teeth, she began to gnaw on the inside of her cheek. She _could_ tell him. It would be the right thing to do. It's what Vickie wanted her to do. But she was hurt. Deep down, she was almost certain he wasn't lying about the rumor. After a moment, the rest of her brain, the part that wouldn't let her believe he was telling the truth, decided that since he'd hurt her, he didn't deserve to know. "I was naïve," she half-lied. "I was in love. I foolishly thought that…I don't know what I expected. Then you were in a cave somewhere. I had other things to worry about at that point."

"You could have left when I got back…"

"Because _that_ would have gone over well. I can see the headlines now, 'Back-from-the-dead Tony Stark dumped on recovery bed'. People would have been lining up around the block to give me defense contracts," she said with a sarcastic laugh. Once she'd started the lie, she had to keep going.

Tony nodded slowly, looking down at the floor and then back up at her. He didn't often get angry, but he began to quickly feel the emotion bubbling to the surface. "So you stayed just long enough so that it wouldn't look bad when you left? That's low, Holly."

She rolled her eyes. "This coming from the man-whore who took me for a fool."

The emotional bubble burst. "Hey, I fucked up. I admitted it and tried to apologize, but at least I'm not a paid whore like you." When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up his hand. "No, you don't get to speak. You played the part of loving girlfriend and diligent business partner long enough to profit from all of this. Let's do a little math, shall we? That first check was for three hundred grand. I happen to know that in my absence Obie manufactured three hundred more Jericho systems. That's four and a half million for you, which brings your grand total to $4.8 million. Heidi Fleiss ain't got nothing on you, sweetheart."

Before she could quite process exactly what was happening, Holly felt her right hand ball up into a fist as she quickly brought her knuckles into contact with Tony's left cheek bone. She was pleasantly surprised when he stumbled backward a half step, clapping his hand over the spot where a bruise would quickly begin to form. "So what was I supposed to do? Tell me! What would you have had me do? Everyone around me was telling me that you were dead. They told me to honor your memory and keep buggering on, so I did," she screamed, this time telling the truth.

"All the while pocketing money from Obie's under the table deals."

"Pot, meet kettle," she spat. "I'm not giving the money back. I earned it. Face it, if you had come back on time, no muss no fuss, you would never have questioned anything. I'd be finishing up the other _seven hundred_ Jericho systems you promised me. I'd be getting rich, and you'd be getting richer."

"Don't make me into the bad guy here," Tony warned.

"Up until you told me that you loved me, I didn't expect a damn thing from you. I was just another booty call, and I was fine with that. The moment you said 'I love you too'… I foolishly thought that it meant something."

Tony gazed down at his Bvlgari watch, idly picking at the metal band. "It does. It did," he whispered, slowing his breathing in the hopes of quieting his pounding heart. Her reason for staying stung, but not near as badly as his mistakes making her think any time he told her that he loved her didn't mean anything. He dropped himself dejectedly into one of the leather rolling chairs, almost certain that the sound of air rushing out of the bottom cushion was the sound of everything they'd built coming crashing down around him. He'd hurt her so badly. He couldn't blame her if she couldn't forgive him. "I don't know what to say."

"I do. Have a nice fucking life without me, Tony." Holly turned sharply on her stiletto and marched back up the stairs, managing to contain herself until she found herself safely ensconced in her black convertible. When she tossed her purse onto the passenger seat, that damned little white envelope fell onto the floorboard. She wasn't able to make it out of Tony's driveway before the sobs started.

 

The moment she was out of earshot, Tony whipped his cell phone out of his suit jacket pocket and quickly dialed a number with one hand while unscrewing the lid to a full bottle of scotch with the other. "Hal?"

" _Just saw the press conference, Tony…_ "

"I'm sure you did. Deal's off."

" _W-What? I don't understand. Why?"_

"I-I… Stark Industries can't go through with it." He quickly ended the call and tossed the phone down on the leather sofa before taking a healthy swig of the amber liquid straight from the bottle. The old man went to his grave thinking that his granddaughter was going to live happily ever after as Holiday Morgan-Stark. That was the only reason Michael Morgan consented to the deal – Tony would have been family. Now that he was never going to happen, he… He may have a certain reputation, but he was certainly not a con artist. A con artist would be all he'd ever be if he let this deal go through. The old man was friends with _his_ old man. Not that he was his father's biggest fan, but he had far too much respect for Michael Morgan to betray his trust the moment he was in the ground.

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

After returning to her apartment, Holly immediately ran to the bathroom. Through her sobs, she managed to squeeze enough eye makeup remover onto a cotton ball, remove the makeup, and wash her face before stumbling into her bedroom and pulling on an old pair of pajamas. She needed to talk to some booze about this.

It was normal to feel this way, right? She made her way into the kitchen and poured herself a healthy glass of red wine. It was over. But she knew deep down that it would never truly be over. Every time she pulled back her bedspread to reveal the blue and white striped sheets that had been on the bed on her birthday, she'd think of him. Every time she went into her lab at Morgan Defense and Armor, she'd think of him saying that he thought it was sexy the way she "talked science" or held a gun. Every time she turned on the television and saw him, she'd only be reminded of how much she still loved him despite everything.

Taking a large gulp of wine, she felt tears stinging her eyes again at the realization that she'd let herself get so close to him that she barely knew how to be on her own again. Walking into the living room, she flopped down on her white futon. The phone hadn't started ringing yet, but she was preparing herself with some liquid courage. She would need all she could get when she would inevitably have to start explaining things. Her heart sank when she heard a knock on the door. "Go away!" she called after taking another healthy swig.

"Ma'am, I only need a few minutes of your time. My name is…"

She rolled her eyes. News sure traveled fast… "I don't really care who you are. I don't have anything to say to the press at this time!"

"I'm not with the press, Miss Morgan. My name is Phil Coulson. I'm an agent with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. I just need to talk with you for a moment about any knowledge you may have of the Iron Man suit and the events on the rooftop."

"What branch of the government does that fall under? I've never heard of you."

"We've already debriefed Mister Stark."

With a groan, she pushed herself into a standing position and opened the door, well aware of the fact that she looked like absolute shit. She tilted her head at the middle-aged man standing before her with a kind look in his eye. "Come in, please. I'm sorry that I'm in my pajamas…"

"You'd be surprised what some people are wearing when we debrief them."

"D-Debrief?" Holly asked, suddenly scared that she knew far too much. "I only know what Tony told me."

Coulson lowered himself into her old tan rocking chair. "And we just want to make sure he's told us everything. So please, just tell me what you know so we can close the books, so to speak, on this one. Then I'll vanish and you can go back to your wine."

She nodded. Government regulation was a part of her job life she learned long ago to just smile and nod when they started asking questions. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip. "I never saw the suit until earlier today," she began. As she continued her tale, she found herself pleasantly surprised that a government agent was that good of a listener.

"Well, Miss Morgan, on behalf of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, I thank you for your time. I think we have everything we need," he concluded, using the arms of the chair to brace himself as he stood up. As he turned to go, he stopped suddenly. Looking back over his shoulder at the petite brunette, he pulled a business card out of his pocket and stepped over to hand it to her. "I hear you do magnificent work. Give me a call in a couple of days. We may want to steal you away from the family business."


	11. Chapter Ten

_ Howling ghosts they reappear _

_ In mountains that are stacked with fear _

_ But you're a king and I'm a lionheart… _

_ His crown lit up the way as we moved slowly _

_ Pass the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind. _

_ Though far away… _

_ We're still the same… _

 

The next evening at 7:45 pm found Holly being buzzed through to the penthouse elevator in Stark Tower, limping through the lobby with her messenger bag slung across her body and her purse awkwardly trapped in her hand with one of the crutch hand grips. She sighed heavily as she watched the numbers on the digital display in the glass elevator continue to get higher as it whizzed toward its destination. If that…woman hadn't shown up at the benefit the night before, she might have been able to negotiate a better, less awkward meeting place.

She'd left the party, changed, and plopped herself down in front of her computer. She spent a couple hours translating the crudely drawn picture of Tony's vision into a manipulable image onto her computer. Once the image had been rendered, she set the computer to making an actual suit and headed to bed. Hopefully, he hadn't gained too much weight in four years. She'd used the dimensions that she remembered from his old tux measurements. This separate shirt and pants combination was just a first draft. If they didn't fit, she could retool the design with the proper measurements.

The ever-curious scientist in her couldn't help but be mildly curious at the fact that Tony had managed to power an entire building with a large-scale arc reactor. He'd told her they were trying to make one work at Stark Industries long before his detour into a cave. Obadiah Stane said it was just to make the hippies shut up, but Holly never really liked that man, a fact confirmed by the fact that he'd tried to kill Tony. Maybe Tony "privatizing world peace" had made him a better person. Maybe living through an alien attack had changed her, too. Who knew?

The one thing she did know was that the elevator was climbing faster and faster toward her destination. She slowly ran her hands down her face, elongating her cheeks and making her come to resemble Wes Craven's Ghostface. Maybe one day she'd be able to sleep in her own bed in her own apartment again. Maybe one day she wouldn't have to have awkward encounters with Tony…

The elevator bell dinged and the doors began to open, revealing Tony's expansive living room. The view out of the floor-to-ceiling windows across the room was breathtaking. The loud clang of a bottle landing on the stone bar top in the distance brought her back into focus.

"You made it," Tony observed with a tired smile, pouring two glasses of bourbon. He remembered earlier in the day that she always preferred Makers Mark to his preferred brand of scotch. He didn't have any wine on hand, but he did have the bourbon. "How's the leg?"

"Same as yesterday, Tony." Leaning over the bench, she opened her bag and extricated her laptop and the two pieces of underlayment she'd fabricated in the wee hours of the morning.

"I'm sorry, was it something I said? Should I have started off with an insult? 'You made it. God you look like hell.' Better?"

Holly made a face and adjusted the sport headband holding back her dark curls. "Of course not. I'm sorry. Honestly it's a little sore. The physical therapist is out to kill me, I swear."

He stepped out from behind the bar with two glasses in hand. "Well the sooner you're out of that brace, the sooner you can walk on those stilts you call shoes again. It's so weird having to look down at you."

Unable to stifle a chuckle, she tossed her long hair back over her pink tank-top covered shoulders and looked up at him for the first time. The bags under his eyes meant that he'd probably slept even less than she had recently. "Trouble sleeping? T-The bags under your eyes…"

"Construction dust getting to me," he lied, brushing off her observation. "They've been doing their thing up here. Tried to keep out of the way, but the stuff gets into the air ducts…"

Biting the inside of her lip with a nod, she hobbled around to the front of the bench and lowered herself down. Tony Stark having a dust allergy? Yeah, and there were little green men on Mars. Besides, while he'd said "construction dust", the corner of his mouth turned up and he sniffed…and he was talking fast. His tell, the chink in his poker face. He was lying about something. Question was what was he lying about? He seemed jittery. Surely that wasn't because of her... "At least someone's come to fix your damage. We can't all call someone and say 'Tony Stark' and have someone out within the hour," she muttered.

"Do you want me to make a call?" he offered quickly, sitting down beside her. "I-I'll make a call in the morning. You're making a house-call. Least I can do is get someone to make a call…on your house."

"Breathe. You're practically going a mile a minute." Holly handed him the black and grey shirt and pants set of the underlayment. "Go make sure these fit."

"You just want to see me naked," he ribbed. She'd walked right into that one. "It's been too long. You're jonesing for a look."

Holly knocked back the contents of the glass in one go. "I can say unequivocally that I have absolutely no interest in seeing you naked. That's Pepper's area now, anyway." She raised an eyebrow. "Wait, where is Pepper?"

Tony clutched the garments to his chest and strode with mock offense across the living room and into the bathroom. "In Malibu. I'm going to join her tomorrow." Shutting the door behind him, he began to quickly change into his new underlayment. He couldn't help but notice just how well the pieces fit. "Damn woman, do you have a measuring tape imprinted in your head?"

Noticing that he'd left his glass untouched, she discreetly grabbed it up off the glass-topped table and took a long whiff of the desirable brown liquid inside. He had more, she reasoned as she sipped slowly. "I was just working off of four year old tux measurements in my head. Is it too tight?" When he stepped back into the living room, she unexpectedly began to choke on the bourbon.

"That's what you get for drinking someone else's beverage," Tony observed dryly. "But no, it's not too tight. It's just what one would want for…whatever you call this."

Holly wiped away a small drop of the drink that had escaped onto the outside corner of her mouth before grabbing her computer and booting it up. "I'm a cripple. I can't carry my own drink. Besides, you abandoned yours. Isn't that alcohol abuse or something?" she questioned jokingly in an effort to disguise the real reason she inadvertently inhaled that last sip. Not that he was ever out of shape per se, but could it be that Tony Stark had been putting some work into his physique? That last sip went down her windpipe because she wasn't expecting to see the fabric of the cuff of the grey three-quarter length sleeves strain against his flexed biceps when he folded his arms across his chest. Why,  _ why _ did her ex have to be a man who only seemed to get better with age? The man may be a bastard, but damn it if he wasn't a sexy little bastard. Once the computer was ready to use, she looked back up at him.

He tugged his jeans back on to cover up the form-fitting pants to the underlayment. Not that he had any problems with showing off any reason to hide, but the situation was already awkward enough without him parading around the apartment in pants that left very little to the imagination (not that she would need to imagine). "I've been thinking about what you said about it being better to have this all one piece." Grabbing the two now empty glasses, he made his way back to the bar for refills.

"I minimized the cuts in what you're wearing. The differences between that and a full body…"

"Are that a full body suit can come in gold?" he interrupted before handing her another glass of bourbon.

"It can come in whatever color you want, Tony." Plucking the glass from his hand, she took note of his expectant expression. "While it would be nice to get out of New York and have a couple days off, I don't have time to hand deliver to California."

"This is why FedEx exists," Tony quipped sarcastically.

Holly backed away slightly and put a hand over her heart to feign offense. "Surely you jest," she retorted with a laugh. "I'll have a junior agent that I can intimidate easily hand deliver it when it's done. Besides, nothing kills the 'I just saved the world and I'm taking some vacation time with my girl' mood like an ex showing up at the door."

Nodding in agreement, he watched her quickly key in the changes he'd requested before shutting the laptop. That had taken much less time than he anticipated. He'd realized the night before at the party just how much he'd missed talking shop with her. He knew the moment Pepper left earlier in the day that he wasn't going to get any sleep, but then again when did he anymore? And she was leaving.

She closed the bag around her laptop and slung the strap over her shoulder before attempting to push herself up into a standing position with a crutch. She inhaled sharply at the small jolt of electricity that coursed through her when Tony brought a steadying hand to her arm. "Thanks," she said warmly, grabbing her purse off the couch. "Soak up some sun for me, huh?"

He eyed her exposed arms that bore little resemblance to the sun-kissed limbs that he used to spend countless hours touching and being touched by with a wry smile. "That's more Pepper's thing than mine, but I'll make sure someone gets some sun for you. I don't think I've ever seen you…what's this color, translucent?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s kept me busy. Staying brown kind of falls down on the priority list." Holly let go of the crutch hand hold and pushed the down button for the elevator. Just as she began to step back into the elevator, she heard Tony calling her name. She blocked the elevator doors with her body and turned back around.

"Stay safe, okay?" he asked as his face gave away the gravity of his concern.

"Between living in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s basement and the Captain checking in with me in one form or another about twice a day, I think I'll be okay," she reassured with a small grin before the doors closed in front of her.

* * *

For the most part, Steve's ninety-fourth birthday (or twenty-ninth if his slightly altered motorcycle license was used) passed with relative quietness two days earlier, he mused as he rode his motorcycle home from another session at his gym of choice.

The Director had given him a succinct message of congratulations when passing him in the halls at S.H.I.E.L.D. when he'd stopped by Holly's office to ask if she could be his plus one to Stark's party the next day. A couple of agents he couldn't name wished him a happy birthday as he exited the building. He'd called Peggy when he received the thoughtful card she'd sent. They talked for an hour and a half, only stopping when her youngest grandchild finally arrived with her newest great-grandchild.

No sooner had that conversation ended than Holly called him apologizing profusely that she'd forgotten his birthday until just then.  _ That _ phone call ended with in her arriving at his building an hour later in a taxi. Due to her still being on crutches, Steve was forced to carry the three boxes she'd brought with her up the stairs (not that he really minded).

_ "I didn't forget at all, Steve. I just wanted to surprise you," Holly explained with a smile as she served him the cottage pie she'd brought for him before taking a bite of her own. _

_ "Well you certainly succeeded." He hummed in appreciation as the flavor combination of mashed potatoes, cheese, ground beef and vegetables met his taste buds. "You really didn't have to do this." _

_ "Say that all you want, but I'm going to maintain the opposite position. Did you really think that I'd let you celebrate alone?" _

_ Steve set his fork down on the edge of his plate before meeting his friend's line of sight again. "I hadn't really planned on celebrating, truth be told. There's not much reason to…" he admitted, cutting himself off when Holly rolled her eyes. "What?" _

_ "My twenty-third birthday was the best birthday I've ever had." She paused as a small chuckle escaped through her smile. "My eighty-eight year old grandfather drove to my apartment at five am and made the same birthday breakfast he'd made for me every birthday since even before my parents died: blueberry pancakes with the syrup arranged into a smiley face, scrambled eggs, and bacon. He cooked while I got ready for work, and we ate together. After work, Tony took me out to dinner and…" Holly stopped her story and bit the corner of her lip awkwardly. _

_ Steve nodded. He could guess exactly what came after that, and he most certainly did not want to know. _

_ "Then the next year, I turned twenty-four here in New York alone. I woke up from a dream where I was eating my birthday breakfast with my grandfather. The day started off in tears because he'd been dead for almost six months, and I hadn't said a single word to Tony in almost five at that point. People remembered my birthday, sure. I had messages from old sorority sisters and college friends throughout the day. Some aunts, uncles, and cousins called, but there was no one to celebrate with. I was about to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. to go drink myself to sleep when Coulson ran into my office and announced that he was going to take me out to dinner to celebrate. And I burst into tears for the second time in one birthday. The last time that happened, I was eight." Holly reached across the table and took his hand into hers. "So the reason I'm here and making you celebrate is that I know what it means when someone, even one person, remembers your birthday when you feel so alone." _

_ Steve smiled as he squeezed her hand in return. "You still didn't have to do all this," he whispered, smiling again despite the tears now spilling onto both of their faces. "You certainly didn't have to get me anything." _

_ "Just open it, you goober." She shook her head as she watched him peel back the paper skeptically. When he shifted his gaze back and forth between her face and the two part collage frame in front of him slack-jawed, she knew she'd hit a homerun. _

_ "I-Is that…" he stammered, pointing to the left hand side of the frame that contained a sketch of his old uniform complete with small material swatches taped in various places and hand-written notes. He confirmed his own suspicions when he saw "A. Morgan" in the bottom right corner. _

_ "The original design for your uniform, yes it is. My grandfather kept it in his office, and I took it to mine when I moved here." Holly watched delighted as his eyes moved to the computer rendering in the other side of the frame. _

_ "And this is your design," Steve observed before squinting at the thin, spiky handwriting in the margins under the color swatches. "These notes aren't yours." _

_ "They're Coulson's. He was practically giddy when I handed him that. Technically, my rendering with his notes wasn't supposed to leave S.H.I.E.L.D., so if anyone asks…" _

_ "I have no idea where I got it." He winked. "Thank you." _

_ "While I'm thinking about it, I brought both sets of candles. Do you want to be ninety-four or twenty-nine when you blow out the candles?" _

* * *

_ July 10, 2009 _

_ S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters _

_ Manhattan _

 

Whipping his cell phone out of his pants pocket, Tony Stark dialed a number he knew by heart. The call rang twice before being transferred to voicemail. "She's ignoring me," he scoffed, before realizing that she'd changed her outgoing message. "If she lets it ring twice, she's ignoring me."

" _ You have reached the voicemail of Holiday Morgan, defense consultant. I'm very sorry to have missed your call. If you leave me a detailed message, I will return your call within twenty-four hours. If you need to fax me documents, please send those to (212) 847-0978. If this is an emergency, please call (212) 546-3245 and ask for Phil Coulson. Thank you. _ "

"Who the hell still has a fax machine?" Ending the call without leaving a message, he brought up his contact list and selected a second number. There was something he needed to do. "Agent Coulson, mind telling me where Holly Morgan's office is?"

" _ She doesn't want to see you, Stark _ ."

"Tell me, or I'll break down your firewall, leave some interesting stuff on your search history, and take a look around what you've got. Who knows what goodies I'll find along the way to her office," he countered in a sing-song voice.

" _ Tenth floor, first door on the left. _ "

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Tony punched the up arrow to call the elevator before hanging up. The palladium building up in his system was going to kill him. The thing keeping him alive was now swiftly bringing him to his end. Was it too much to hope for that her anger had softened in the almost ten months since their separation? It probably was, but he still held out hope that he could see her smile one last time. He straightened his tie unconsciously as the elevator doors shut behind him. Coulson said she didn't want to see him. Exactly what had the little minx told him? Had she left a blanket order for the middle-aged agent to keep him away from her office?

Stepping out of the car onto the tenth floor, he immediately noticed that the aforementioned first door on the left was open. He peered around the white metal door frame and couldn't help but smile. Holly sat behind her expansive glass-topped desk, pen clenched between her teeth, sifting through a mound of papers. Some things just never changed, like her inability to find anything in her work space. Tony's eyes, out of habit, began following the soft lines of her neck, down the straight edges of the lapel on her black tailored blazer to the scoop neck of the white blouse beneath it. If she leaned forward any further, his trip to New York to open the Expo in a couple hours would have an unintended bonus. "You know, I seem to remember that you were supposed to call me after you made that new prototype. Don't tell me that you're still working on it," he called into the room, chuckling softly when she jumped in surprise.

Holly rolled her eyes and dropped the papers back onto the desk before shoving the pen into her black metal desk caddy. "What do you want, Tony?" She stood up and smoothed out her jacket and matching black pleated pants, intentionally avoiding his gaze.

"I liked it much better when you were sifting through papers wearing one of my shirts," he quipped, eyeing the tailored business clothing.

"I really don't have time for a stroll down memory lane right now. I've got a meeting in five minutes." She put her hands on her hips, showing off her blue fingernails.

Tony's brown eyes met hers, searching for any sign that beneath this icy exterior she'd accumulated, she was still the Holly that he used to know and love. The Holly he used to know  _ hated  _ meetings, especially those between R&D and the suits. She certainly would never have blown him off to go to one. Hell, even if one stipulated to the fact that she might not be his biggest fan since they split up, the old Holly probably would have still found some way to use him as an excuse to get out of her meeting. His eyes searched hers, but came up empty. Gone was "his Holly" and the sparkle in her eyes that she always had when working on something new.

"I should probably ask  _ you _ if you've lost something the way you're staring," she growled, eyeing his grey pinstripe suit. "By the way, I caught your 'the suit and I are one' bullshit."

"Keeping tabs on me still? How sweet."

Holly jerked her head toward the open door at the sound of a soft knock on the metal. "Well, it's been a nice chat Stark, but my meeting is here."

"Am I interrupting anything?" the man at the door with sandy hair asked, eyes narrowing as he began to evaluate the potential threat level.

"No, Mister Stark was just about to get the hell out of my office," Holly assured him, looking at her ex as a menacing smile crossed her face.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure," Tony stated, holding out his hand.

"Barton," the man replied curtly, staring blankly at Tony's extended hand.

Returning his hand to his pants pocket, Tony nodded slowly. "Right, well as much fun as this little pow wow will undoubtedly be, I'm going to go."

Clint Barton remained in the doorway until the elevator doors closed behind Tony Stark. Stepping into the office, he couldn't help but notice Holly pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Are you okay? Do we need to reschedule?"

Tony shook his head when he heard her coldly brush off the encounter, saying she was fine. He pushed the elevator call button. He was going to die and she would still hate him. Nonetheless, he still had an Expo to open.


	12. Chapter Eleven

_ I used to be such a sweet, sweet thing _

_ 'Til they got a hold of me. _

_ I opened doors for little old ladies, _

_ I helped the blind to see. _

_ I got no friends 'cause they read the papers. _

_ They can't be seen, with me and I'm gettin' real shot down _

_ And I'm feeling mean. _

_ No more Mister Nice Guy _

_ No more Mister Clean… _

 

_ Four months later _

_ One week before Christmas. _

 

Sitting behind his expanded desktop in his garage-slash-laboratory in Malibu, Tony Stark set the soldering iron back into its cradle and sighed. Mark 42 needed to be finished soon. He needed to go to bed. He needed to do so many things…

_ I used to love her, But I had to kill her. I used to love her, But I had to kill her. I had to put her six feet under, And I can still her complain. I used to love her, But I had to kill her. _

He smiled tiredly and began to sing along with the old Guns N Roses song. "I knew I'd miss her, So I had to keep her. She's buried right in my back yard." He began sifting through the contents of the top of the work table as the song continued, only to growl in frustration at the apparent lack of a size six Allen wrench. He could have sworn he had one out…

_ …I used to love her, But I had to kill her. I used to love her, But I had to kill her. She bitched so much, She drove me nuts And now I'm happier this way, yeah… _

Tony pushed himself away from the table, rolling over toward his massive red tool chest. Standing up, he quickly pulled open the third drawer from the top and began to search for the tiny (but necessary) tool. His forehead crinkled in confusion when his fingers curled around something…velvety. There wasn't anything velvety that should be in a drawer full of Allen wrenches. Unless he'd gotten so drunk he forgot his name and hid something from himself. (This mystery object wouldn't be the first time that happened. He'd done that with Pepper's anniversary present last year. He found it six months later.)

_ …I used to love her, But I had to kill her. I used to love her, But I had to kill her. I had to put her six feet under And I can still hear her complain… _

His quest for the wrench forgotten, he pulled the object out of its resting place. He decided that it was probably a good thing that Pepper wasn't home the second he realized what he was holding. "Shit," he muttered as he rubbed his tired eyes with his free hand. "So that's where you ended up." Popping open the black velvet box, he shook his head sadly. Inside the box was the diamond and platinum engagement ring he'd bought for Holly almost four years earlier. As he eyed the ring, flashes of alcohol-addled memories began to come back to him.

_ "Have a nice fucking life without me, Tony." _

After Holly left, he'd grabbed the nearest bottle of anything with alcohol in it and began to drink. He didn't even care what he was drinking. All he needed was to forget. He needed to forget how badly he'd fucked up the best thing that had happened to him. When he finally peeled himself up off the garage floor in time for a  _ late _ dinner the next day, a bottle of vodka and a bottle of scotch lay empty on the floor beside him. The ring box was nowhere in sight.

Four years later, he finally found out what he did with it. He gently removed the ring from the box and let it sparkle under the fluorescent lights once again. He shoved the drawer closed and made his way upstairs and out onto the balcony overlooking the Pacific. God,  _ seeing _ the ring again was almost enough to bring a tear to the billionaire's eye…and he never cried. He sniffed when he caught sight of the inscription inside the band:  _ AES & HRM 2008 _ .

He wasn't a sentimental man by any stretch of the imagination, but his mind betrayed him and suddenly wandered back to the night before his escape from the cave. He sank down onto the chaise lounge and stared intently at the expensive piece of jewelry...

While Yinsen was helping him with final preparations for the suit, Tony was trying to sift through the million thoughts running through his head. They all involved either his company or Holly. And most of the ones about ones involving his then-girlfriend were of the NC-17 variety...but one wasn't. He realized then that she deserved more. She deserved everything. He'd been a shitty boyfriend. He did whatever he wanted with little thought to her at all.

She'd dropped numerous hints about always wanting to go to Rome. She wanted to visit the Coliseum and see how many  _ Gladiator _ references she could get off during a tour. But he never went with her because it wasn't what  _ he  _ wanted to do. (Then it was too late for him to have a chance to take her. He found out from Romanoff a year after the Expo and his impending death fiasco that Holly had taken some time off and went by herself.) Then he put a cherry on top of the hedonistic single-mindedness sundae that was his own personality by sleeping with what's her name.

They were going through hell in the cave while she was undoubtedly going through a different kind of hell at home. People were most likely telling her that he was dead, but her loyal-to-a-fault tendencies were keeping her searching for him. She  _ had to _ . He couldn't imagine his existence without her. He didn't deserve her. He could never deserve her. But just before Yinsen snapped him back into the moment, Tony vowed to do everything he could to be worthy of that love and loyalty. Step one: get out of the cave. Step two: get a ring. Step three: actually propose to her. He'd gotten permission from her grandfather weeks before he left for the demonstration, but he'd been too busy getting the Jericho missiles ready…and trapped in a cave for a while to ask. He'd propose and beg her to let him make up for being a shitty boyfriend by being as much of a saint as he could be as her fiancé.

Oh god, the proposal. Hell, he couldn't even propose to her without thinking of himself first. She wanted to tell him something, that something  _ probably _ wasn't what she wound up telling him going by the fact that she appeared to be actually considering his proposal, and he couldn't even let her do that.

Running a hand through his hair, Tony let out a defeated sigh. She couldn't forgive him for what he'd done. She walked out. At the time he was mad, naturally. The only thing that softened his anger toward her while simultaneously making him angrier with himself was his brush with mortality a year after their split. But it didn't matter because she still hated him. Once he realized he was going to live, he had to let her go. He moved on…or at least his sober brain had.

He pushed himself up into a standing position and walked over to the railing around the balcony. The damn ring was supposed to be the start of the next chapter of his life. He had it all planned out. She was supposed to say yes. They were supposed to go on an extended vacation where neither of them left the bed for a week to celebrate  _ it _ all being over. After a reasonable engagement, they'd get married. There would be a wild party, naturally. They'd spend their days working on that "bricks and beams for baby hospitals" thing and their nights working through the  Kama Sutra (again).

But she shit on all of that when she said no, and the bubble burst. Before he left New York, he got a glimpse of that ideal life twice while she worked with him on his underlayment idea. Instead of his plan, he got multiple death scares, nightmares, and Pepper. Looking down at the sparkling ring in his hand, he growled in frustration. Where had that thought come from?  _ Pepper _ was the best thing that ever happened to him, everyone said so.  _ He'd _ said so.

When life hands you lemons, hand them back, ask for limes and bust out the tequila and salt. He changed (after a couple drunken nights to make the rejection easier to bear and a handful of speed bumps), just like his original plan. He changed, just for a different woman. This woman was the better plan, the better woman. What was that Marilyn Monroe line that every female at one point uses to defend her actions? "If you can't handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." Something like that at least. Pepper's handled him at his worst…more than once. Dare he admit that he was better off now, too?

_ Yeah, h _ e thought with a smirk before slamming the box shut with the ring inside and launching it out into the bay.  _ I dare _ .

"I don't think the ocean is the place to store jewelry, Mister Stark."

He whirled around at the sound of one of the last voices he wanted to hear. "See, part of me doesn't want to know how you got into my house without me knowing, but then the other part of me does so I can make sure you don't do it again. You and Coulson, jeez."

"When you find a new way to keep me out, I'll find a new way to get in," Director Fury responded with his hands clasped behind his back.

"That's comforting," Tony grumbled. "So why the hell are you here?"

"I've got something I need you to take a look at."

"Official consulting hours are…"

He moved his hands out on front of him, revealing a computer identical to the one Coulson had brought into Stark Tower just before the attack on New York. "…between eight and five every other Thursday. Coulson told me. It's 4:46 pm. And it is Thursday."

_ Hoisted by my own petard.  _ Tony grudgingly lifted the object from Fury's hand, his discomfort evident on his face. He sat back down on the chaise lounge before inserting the screen into the slot. 

 

"I-I'll do some research and get back to you," the billionaire grumbled after a few minutes. When the Director turned to presumably show himself out, Tony collected the tablet and made his way back downstairs.

He set the tablet on his workbench before heading over to the other side of the garage / workshop and pouring himself a drink. Grabbing the television remote, he flopped down on the sofa. He took a long drink of the scotch in the glass before turning on the television and beginning to channel surf. As he mindlessly flipped through the channels, his thoughts turned back to Holly.

He fished his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans after settling on a  _ Top Gear _ rerun. He should call her. Just to check in. After all, the had done some business together. It was even polite!

But he never called  _ her _ to check in. She'd know something was up. She’d know that he’d done something extreme and somehow thought of her. As he continued to weigh his options, the channel changed suddenly without him pushing a button.

" _ Some people call me a terrorist. I consider myself a teacher. _ "

The desire for another sip of his scotch died suddenly.

" _ America, ready for another lesson? 1864 in Sand Creek, Colorado, the US military waited until the nine braves had gone hunting to attack and slaughter their families…and claim their land. Nine hours ago, Ali al Salam Air Base in Kuwait was attacked. I… I did that. _ "

Tony felt his heart beating in his throat. Swiping his finger across the phone screen, he placed a call...but not to his former lover. "I think you may have a bigger problem than what’s on that tablet."

* * *

Three thousand miles away, Holly's hand began to shake so hard that she dropped her glass of wine. With her eyes glued to the television, she didn't even notice the dark merlot beginning to stain her white cashmere socks and tan carpet.

" _ The great military church filled with wives and children. And worse, the soldiers were out on maneuvers. The braves were away. President Ellis, you continue to resist my attempts to educate you, sir. _ "

She felt a glass shard slice through her sock and cut her foot when she reached across the sofa to retrieve her phone. Out of habit, she brought up her contacts and skipped down to the P's. She closed her eyes to try and stop the tears. Phil Coulson had now been dead for almost seven months.

" _ And now you've missed me again. You know who I am. You don't know where I am. You'll never see me coming. _ "

She limped over to sit down on the sofa and dialed another number with one hand and began picking the bits of glass out of her foot with the other.

" _ Yes, Morgan, I did see the thing on tv. You're the fifth person to call me in two minutes. I already told Stark that it's not our problem. The military is handling it. _ "

 

Two days (and three stitches to the foot) later, Holly received a text from Steve containing only a link to something from  _ The New York Times _ . She clicked the link and waited for it to load, smiling a little because of how far her friend had come far enough in adapting to his new surroundings as to text her a link to a news article. She rolled her dark eyes when she read the headline staring her in the face: "Tony Stark Threatens Mandarin". "Dumbass," she muttered before clicking play on the video accompanying the article.

" _ Here's a little holiday greeting I've been wanting to send to the Mandarin. I just didn't know how to phrase it 'till now. My name's Tony Stark, and I'm not afraid of you. I know you're a coward, so I've decided that you just die, pal. I'm gonna come get the body. There's no politics here, just good old fashioned revenge. No Pentagon, it's just you and me. On the off-chance you're a man, here's my home address: 10880 Malibu Point, 90265. I'll leave the door unlocked. _ "

As the video ended, Holly dropped the phone onto the sofa and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes in frustration. What the hell was he thinking? She reached over and picked the phone back up and dialed Tony's number. She'd find out what he was thinking.

" _ I presume you saw what I said, so if you're going to yell at me, take a number Holly. _ "

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Tony?" she screamed into the phone. "This isn't even your problem, and you go and risk your safety, not to mention Pepper's!"

" _ Hey, he  _ made _ it my problem when he blew up that theater and put Happy into a coma. _ "

"Oh god, is he okay?" she asked softly.

" _ He's pretty cut up and oh yeah, he's in a coma. How do you  _ think _ he is? _ "

"Tony, stop."

" _ No,  _ you _ stop. You lost the right to question my sanity and everything else about me the moment you walked out. We've interacted a handful of times since you left, and that doesn't mean that you suddenly get that right back. Hell, we interacted if you want to call it that because I  _ hired  _ you to make something for me. You were my employee. I don't have to answer to you anymore, and I'm not going to. What's done is done, so you can go fuck yourself, sweetheart. _ "

"Tony, stop," she repeated. "Maybe I was out of line yelling and yeah I know I gave up that right, but can I not call to make sure you're okay?"

" _ You didn't ask if I was okay. You yelled. _ "

She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

" _ Yeah. Sure. I couldn't be any better if I tried. Why wouldn't I be? Life's a ball of sunshine right now. _ "

Holly quickly ended the call, threw the phone across the room, and began to cry softly. She hobbled back to her bedroom and climbed into her warm bed. As she continued to cry, she heard her phone ringing multiple times from the other room but couldn't muster up enough energy to go answer it. Eventually, she cried herself to sleep.

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

1 Missed Call from Pepper Potts

6:12 pm

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

1 New Voicemail from Pepper Potts

6:13 pm

 

"Holly, it's Pepper. Oh my god. T-The house. T-Tony's gone. I have no idea if he's okay. I… I… Please call me back. I don't know what to do."

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

1 Missed Call from Steve Rogers

6:14 pm

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

1 New Voicemail from Steve Rogers

6:14 pm

 

"Holly! Oh my god, they blew up Tony's house. Pepper has called me. She wants me to go look for him, but Director Fury said I can't. I'm worried. Please call me back."

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

2 Missed Calls from Pepper Potts

6:12 pm, 9:35 pm

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

2 New Voicemails from Pepper Potts

9:35 pm

 

"Holly, it's Pepper again. Tony left me a message on the secure server. I'm so scared. I'm scared  _ for _ him. I don't know where he is. But he may reach out to you. He won't reach out to me. I'm not involved and he wants it that way. But you're involved with S.H.I.E.L.D. He might call you. Here, let me play the message. ' _ Pepper, it's me. I've got a lot of apologies to make, and not a lot of time so… First off, I'm so sorry I put you in harm's way. It was selfish and stupid and it won't happen again. Also, it's Christmas time and the rabbit is dumb. And I'm sorry in advance 'cause I can't come home yet. I need to find this guy. I gotta stay safe. That's all I know. I just stole a poncho from a wooden Indian… _ ' Please call me back."

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

When Holly woke up from her impromptu nap at almost four am, she finally retrieved her phone. Listening to her messages, she could feel her heart shattering. History was repeating itself. The first time Tony went missing, the last thing she said to him was "Have a nice trip…asshole". She cleaned her things out of his house, only to learn he was missing and presumed dead. Now he was missing but clearly not dead (yet) and the (possible) last thing he said to her was like a knife to her gut. Gnawing awkwardly on one of her acrylic nails, she decided to do the only thing she could – hit redial.

" _ Holly! Thank god. Did you get my messages? _ "

"Yeah, Pepper, I did. He hasn't called me, and I think given the last thing I said to him earlier today… I may be the last person he'd call."

" _ But if he calls, will you help him? _ "

Holly took a deep breath while choosing her reply carefully. "Yes, I promise. I'll do anything and everything I can for him  _ if he calls _ . For you. I owe you one, remember?"

" _ Thank you _ ."

The two women fell into an uncomfortable silence before Pepper spoke again.

" _ How did you do it? How did you get through the day when he was missing four years ago? _ "

"It's not the same. You know he's alive."

" _ Tell me, please. _ "


	13. Chapter Twelve

_ You have admired _

_ Every man desires _

_ Everyone is king _

_ When there's no one left to pawn _

_ There is no peace here _

_ War is never cheap dear _

_ Love will never meet here _

_ It just gets sold for parts _

_ You cannot fight it _

_ All the world denies it _

_ Open up your eyelids _

_ Let your demons run _

_ I thread the needle through _

_ You beat the devil's tattoo... _

 

 

_ "You know what to do." _

_ "The Clean Slate protocol, sir?" _

_ "Screw it, it's Christmas. Yes. Yes." _ _   
_

* * *

  
Tony pressed a kiss to the top of Pepper's red hair and wrapped her up tightly in a hug the moment the captain announced that they were cleared for takeoff in the small private jet. They were leaving Miami. They were going back to New York. It was over. He smiled when he looked down and saw his girlfriend finally relaxed…well, as relaxed as she could be given the fact that she'd been injected with Extremis. "I'm gonna fix it, okay?" When she nodded and snuggled closer to his side, he relaxed deeper into the soft cushion of the seat.

* * *

"Tony Stark Back Home in Manhattan Following Incident at Miami Docks"

 

Holly shut her laptop after reading only the headline to the article dated the previous day. Tony had come back from the dead yet again. And just like last time, Pepper was there waiting on him. At least this time, Holly didn't have a very good excuse for not being there. She was just at work at S.H.I.E.L.D., tapping away on her computer like normal.

She wanted to talk to some wine about this, but she'd been doing too much of that lately. Then again, what new S.H.I.E.L.D. development didn't make her want to drink?

Despite the fact that Tony was most definitely not her problem anymore, she had this strange feeling that she should go visit him and apologize for the last conversation they'd had. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and sent a quick message to the billionaire's girlfriend.

 

> To: Pepper Potts
> 
> From: Holiday Morgan
> 
>  
> 
> Knowing Tony and what happened after Afghanistan, he's holed up in his lab working on something. If he's up for visitors, would it be okay for me to pay him a visit? The last conversation he and I had before…the recent little dust up didn't go as well as it needed to. I'd like a chance to apologize.

 

> To: Holiday Morgan
> 
> From: Pepper Potts
> 
>  
> 
> He is "holed up" in his lab, but I think a visitor apart from Rhodey and myself would be appreciated. He may need someone else to check up on him. He should be free after seven tomorrow night.

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

The next night, Holly realized she hadn't felt this nervous since her first grad school entrance interview. As she watched the elevator continue to climb up toward the Stark Tower penthouse, she knew what she wanted to say, but that didn't make it any easier.

" _ Miss Morgan, Mister Stark has redirected you to his private laboratory floor _ ," the AI directed calmly. " _ There is a glass of merlot on the table to the right of the elevator door for your convenience. _ "

She nodded in silent affirmation as the elevator lurched to a stop at the appropriate place. As promised, a glass of deep red wine awaited her upon her exit. She started to reach for the glass, but recoiled. Instead, she looked around the massive laboratory.

"You wanted to talk to me?" a familiar voice called in the distance causing her to jump. Tony frowned when he saw her startled expression after he quickly shoved whatever he was working on into the desk drawer. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"How are you, Tony?" Holly asked as she dropped her purse to the floor and began to unbutton her red pea coat to reveal a simple blue blouse tucked into her black pants. She couldn't help but smile when she caught sight of her ex-boyfriend's shirt. She'd worn that old Def Leppard shirt advertising the band's "Paranoia" album around his Malibu house on more than one occasion.

"I… I'm okay, but I think you're sick. That glass of merlot is still on the table and not in your hand." When she responded only by smoothing out a wrinkle in her top, he coughed. "You're not…uh…"

"Pregnant? No. I'm almost five months into a dry spell, as it were. As for abstaining from the wine, I've been limiting myself. Tomorrow's Friday, and I'd like to save my last two drinks for the weekend."

"So you don't mind if I…" Tony began, motioning toward a bottle of scotch on an adjacent counter.

"It's your house, Tony." She toed off her silver pumps and pushed herself into a sitting position on an unused portion of his large desk while he poured a healthy tumbler of his liquor of choice.

He turned around to face her, leaning back onto the counter. "Sorry about the dry spell, by the way."

"It's my own fault for letting my old sorority sister set me up with her brother. Nothing good ever comes out of a blind date…unless you somehow enjoy an Englishman who cries after sex," Holly mused, intentionally avoiding looking at him.

Tony's hand flew up to cover his nose and mouth the instant he felt that last sip of scotch burning the insides of his nasal passages. He quickly set the glass on the counter as he began to gag. Once the drink was safely on its way back down his throat, he let out a hoarse laugh. "Oh my god," he finally ground out when his laughter abated. "I don't remember there  _ ever _ being anything to cry about, unless you count that one time we were hammered and I fell off the piano."

She looked at the floor and shook her head, causing her long dark curls to fall around her face like a mask. "That was the worst idea ever," she reminisced.

Clearing his throat, he bit his lip awkwardly. "So you wanted to talk to me?"

"Y-Yeah. I wanted to apologize to you, actually. I…uh…the last conversation we had on the phone… I was out of line. I'm sorry. I guess we've all been on edge since Loki."

_ Understatement of the year, right there. _ “It’s okay. Your heart was in the right place. I think.”

“I was just concerned. I had to talk Pepper down a few times.”

“Thanks, Hol.” Swirling his drink in his glass again, Tony took a drink and went to retrieve the wine glass left by the elevator. 

“How’s she doing, by the way? She said you were cooking up something to cure her?”

“Yeah, she’s cured. But how…”

With a hand on her hip and a cocked eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. “It’s called a telephone.”

“Because your ex and your current girlfriend chatting about you isn’t weird,” he exhaled dramatically. “If this conversation’s going to keep going, you’re probably going to need this.”

“You’re right.” Holly downed the contents in one long drink. "Do you have another glass worth?"

"I thought you were rationing."

"Turns out Norse gods and fucking aliens are fucking real. I’m not sure there are enough drugs in all of California to get me to the point where that makes sense.” Offering a curt "thank you", she plucked the bottle from him once he'd produced it from the cabinet behind him and poured another healthy glass of the crimson liquid. 

He smiled. “I’ve only seen you baked out of your gourd twice. Both times were hilarious.”

“I’m sure they were. The first time, Bill Maher had the sense to give me a baby joint because it was my first time.”

“Somewhere I think I have a video of you making the case for Hillary Clinton over Obama.”

“Second time,” she continued, ignoring his remark “I ordered three  _ cases _ of Walker’s ‘Cheese and Onion’ Crisps off of Amazon because we were listening to The Rutles album. We shared one big enough to knock  _ you _ on your ass.” She glared at him. “And this was before they delivered within the hour in major cities.”

The billionaire set his glass down again and doubled over with laughter. 

“I had to come up with an explanation on the fly for Michael three days later when it showed up on  _ his _ doorstep instead of  _ mine _ .”

Her account brought tears to his eyes at the memory of her relaying this tale to him years earlier. “The gag gift.”

“He didn’t buy that at all.”

“I seem to remember that, too.”

The former couple fell into a comfortable silence as their laughter died down. 

“I went back to California for a day last week,” Holly began slowly. “It was the anniversary of Mom and Dad’s accident. I sat there in that little patch of grass between their headstone and P-Poppy’s just thinking how absurd just how everything that’s happened in the past few years is.” She looked down into her glass. “ _ You _ ’re a superhero.”

“And Captain America is alive after all this time.”

“Exactly. And you know what? All I could think of at the time was whether or not I did the right thing by joining S.H.I.E.L.D., whether or not they’d approve.”

“As long as you’re happy, I can’t see them not approving.”

“It’s a mixed bag. I’ve made some of the closest friends of my life...but I’ve also had my leg suspended from the ceiling and crutches. I’d quit, but I don’t know where I’d go.”

“Back to the family business?”

Holly shrugged. “Probably not. I’ve been out of the loop for too long.”

“What about for me?”

She laughed. 

* * *

_ June 15, 2006 _

_ Los Angeles, California _

_ UCLA Campus _

 

While everyone else in Royce Hall sat watching and applauding the master's students as they graduated, Michael Morgan sat sternly between his wife and Anthony Stark with arms folded across his chest as he waited for his granddaughter's name to be called. He chanced a glance to his left, eyeing the son of his old friend warily.

Ever since Holly mentioned that Tony had brought her dinner in her lab the night of her birthday, something had been…different. She'd always been an upbeat person with a smile on her face, a thirst for knowledge, and an uncanny ability to make anyone smile. A faint grin crossed his face at the memory of her six-year-old self making the man next to him smile at his own parents' funeral. The smile soon faded into a look of deep concentration. Somehow in the four months since her twenty-first birthday, his already "cheery enough for two" granddaughter had become "cheery enough for  _ three _ ". He initially laughed it off when his wife hinted that the extra pep in Holly's step might be coming from some decidedly male attention. He'd said at the time that if his granddaughter was seeing someone, he'd know.

He and Barbara thought that when their youngest, Holly's father, moved off to college, they'd be done raising children. As fate would have it, they found themselves years later with their newly-orphaned seven-year-old granddaughter. His wife tried to mold her into the spitting image of their own three daughters, all three of whom became Norman Rockwell-esque housewives. He knew even before his son and daughter-in-law passed that his spitfire of a granddaughter would settle for being a housewife about the same time that the famous Captain America announced his allegiance with the Nazis. She'd gone out into the desert with him at age five and built what she called a "sand fort" complete with gun turrets while he and Howard Stark played with their respective companies' latest toys. His suspicions were confirmed the day Holly broke her grandmother's heart with the announcement that she had dumped her "old money" high school boyfriend, changed her major to Materials Science and Engineering, and declared that she would have her master's degree by age twenty-one. Her aim was to head Morgan's R&D department.

The news that Howard and Maria's son would be coming to Holly's graduation didn't faze him at the time. He and Barbara had gone to Tony's MIT graduation. It's just what friends did…

As the announcer called "Holiday Rae Morgan" over the PA system, Michael Morgan's thoughts were wrenched back to the present. The smile returned to his face in full force as he stood up and the black and white hood was placed over her head. As she exited the stage below to applause, he couldn't help but chuckle as he caught sight of her smoothing down her long blonde hair mussed by the hood. He turned slightly to his left to gauge how to sit back down when she was out of sight behind the stage, silently cursing his old age when he saw something he never imagined seeing in his wildest dreams.

He folded his hands over his knees and sighed. As much as he never wanted to think about Holly and "male attention" in the same sentence, let alone admit that his wife was right...that was exactly what he'd have to do. He knew the look on Tony Stark's face well. He'd given it to his wife when she let him hold their newborn eldest daughter for the first time. The look was a mix of pride and affection.

His green eyes that had seen a depression, war, peace, and prosperity focused on a crooked light fixture across the room.  _ Holly could do worse _ , he mused.  _ A brilliant man who actually understands what her master's thesis was about and can also provide for  _ her _ great-grandchildren's every need while sparing no expense on her?  _ The traitorous thought that Tony's reputation with the fairer sex was exactly like his father's drove any remnants of his pride-filled smile from his wrinkled face as he looked down at the handful of age spots on the backs of his hands.  _ If he hurts her, I'll… Who am I kidding? I'm eighty-six. I'll send one of her cousins. _

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

Tony Stark's dark eyes slowly opened at the sudden influx of Sardinian afternoon sunlight, presumably because the sun had finally come out from behind a billowy cloud. He smiled as he took in Holly's sleeping form. After an extremely long flight (which included several rounds of love-making), she'd come to rest naked on her stomach with her head turned to her right to face him. He began to quickly debate whether or not to wake his sleeping girlfriend. On the one hand, she was finally getting a good night's sleep after living on little more than pots of coffee and two hours of sleep a night as she balanced cramming for final exams, defending her thesis, and completing her patent application with his help. She definitely needed the sleep he admitted, but he  _ was _ promised the best wake-up sex of his life when he'd surprised her with this trip…

His internal debate was abruptly interrupted by the vibrating of his cell phone on the bedside table. He groaned softly to avoid waking her as he rolled over to see who was calling. Obadiah Stane. As much as he'd like to ignore the call, he knew he shouldn't. Quickly picking up the phone and pulling on his discarded suit pants from the day before, he tiptoed out onto the private patio lined with multicolored tiles before sliding the screen sideways to accept the call. "I'm on vacation, Obie," Tony grumbled, wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

" _ How long has it been going on, Tony? And don't you dare play dumb with me. _ "

"I have no idea what you're talking about. How long has  _ what _ been going on?" He yawned, idly running his fingers up and down the old terracotta roof tiles within his reach as he looked out into the harbor.

" _ I just caught a glimpse of some photos of you and Michael Morgan's granddaughter in the paper giggling like teenagers and hopping on a Stark Industries jet which I just found out landed in Sardinia a couple hours ago. You don't just load up any girl you sleep with and take her to Europe. _ "

"She needed a little R&R."

" _ And you loaded up and came with her? Out with it, Tony. How long have you been shacking up with little Miss Morgan? _ "

"This has nothing to do with business, Obie, and it never will."

" _ Cut the crap, Tony, and answer my question _ ."

"Fine," he huffed. "Since February. I'm happy, and so is she." Tony stepped back from the railing and plopped down into one of the chairs around the outdoor table.

" _ Four months, eh? I think that's a world record for you. And just so you know, it has everything to do with business. What do you think is going to happen when the story is confirmed that the greatest playboy since Hefner has literally been in bed with Morgan Defense and Armor? More than that, what about when the story breaks that you both are  _ happy _? _ "

"You know good and well that Morgan would shut down before selling one building to us. Howard tried for years, but Michael told him just to go fuck himself. Besides, it's not like she would ever have the power to sell."

" _ Michael isn't running the company anymore, in case you have been too busy to notice. Your girlfriend's older cousin is. I happen to have it on the best of authority that he's open to a merger… _ "

"And then what would happen if we decided she and I weren't working? Howard wanted a lot of things, but even he wouldn't want me to make his best friend's granddaughter feel like she'd just been bought for two goats and a herd of cattle."

" _ And if you were both happy and celebrating your fiftieth wedding anniversary? _ "

"Hitting the fast-forward button  _ a little _ too hard there, Obie. Who said anything about anyone getting married? I can't believe I'm even having this discussion with you. I don't ever see myself getting married, but even if I do somehow, I'm not making it about business."

" _ You are Tony Stark. Everything's business, even this, so either shit or get off the pot. _ "

Ending the call, Tony jumped slightly when he felt two cold hands snake around his bare waist and a sudden nip at his right earlobe. "Fucking ninja," he growled over her soft laugh. "How'd you sleep?" When she moaned appreciatively into his back, he spun around in her embrace and planted a slow, lazy kiss on her lips.

"Best sleep I've had in a good long while. Who was that on the phone?"

"Just Obie checking in. I forgot to call before we left," he reassured, guiding his bathrobe-clad girlfriend back into the hotel room.

Holly giggled softly. "You should remember to make calls like that."

"Eh, I do when I can," Tony muttered before reaching into his suitcase that was perched precariously on the desk just inside the door. He pulled out a modest sized jewelry box wrapped in cheezy wrapping paper printed with graduation caps. There was a reason he hired Pepper. "I got you something."

Shoving her hands into the pockets of the fluffy white robe, she shook her head. "Tony, you really didn't need to do that. You flew me halfway around the world and said we're going to be here for a week. That and your company is enough for me."

"But what if I wanted to get you something else? It's not like I can't afford it." He offered the paper-covered box to her. "Open it at least."

Mouthing "okay", she reluctantly accepted the offered box and gently tore away the paper. She brought one hand to cover her mouth at the signature Tiffany blue box. "Tony…"

"Open it," Tony urged, taking the discarded wrapping paper from her.

Holly glanced back and forth between the box and Tony several times before slowly opening it. "Oh my god. Shit. Is that…" She trailed off as she stared at the drop earrings with three strings of various shaped diamonds.

"Platinum? Yes."

She closed the box and tried to hand it back to him. "They're beautiful, I'm not gonna lie to you. But Tony, that has to be upwards of twenty grand that you dropped on some earrings for a girl that's been hanging out at your house…"

"But what if I want you to take them regardless?"

"They feel like a bribe to keep me around, and I don't need a bribe to spend time with the man I lov…" Holly clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from finishing her sentence.

Tony closed his eyes for a second and opened them again. "I need you to finish that sentence."

"T-Tony, it was stupid. Ignore me."

Pressing the box back into her hand with one of his, he wrapped his other arm around her waist. "It's only stupid if you didn't mean what you were about to say." He tilted his head to the side to look into her eyes. "And I know you well enough to know that you meant it." When she tried to start a new sentence and faltered, he continued for her. "Something's stopping you. What is it, the fact that 'TONY STARK' wouldn't return the sentiment? I can tell you right now that you're wrong."

She couldn't stifle the small gasp that escaped her throat.

"Because 'TONY STARK' might not return the sentiment, but Tony Stark will. And it scares the hell out of me to admit that. 'TONY STARK' loves his cars, his house, his money, his cereal, and his AI butler. But," he paused, releasing his grip around her hand holding the jewelry box and pointing it toward her "there's a reason I need you to finish that sentence."

Holly looked down at the ornate tiled floor before reconnecting with Tony's eyes. "I don't need a bribe to spend time with the man that I love."

Tony nodded as a smile blossomed over his face. "I love you, too," he whispered. "Relationships have never been my forte, so I can tell you right now that I will forget dates and places. I know I'll screw it all up seven ways from Sunday, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to make every effort for you. I mean, how many people get their own lab partner that can hold a, what was it…something bull…"

"Standing bow pulling pose?"

"That! Like I said, how many people get their own lab partner who can hold a standing bow pulling pose while wearing six inch heels? That was hot as hell, by the way." He gently nudged her shoulder when she dropped her head suddenly. "What?"

When she finally raised her head, she immediately wiped away tears from both of her dark eyes. "You don't have to buy me anything or take me anywhere ever again so long as you remind me that you love me."

"But what if I want to…"

"Donate to UNICEF."

"But you'll keep the earrings at least?"

"I'll keep the earrings."


	14. Chapter Thirteen

_ …When you're down in a hole _

_ Where there's so little chance, _

_ to experience soul _

_ I'm grateful to anyone, _

_ that is happy or free _

_ for giving me hope _

_ while I'm looking to see _

_ the light that has lighted the world… _

 

The ringing of her phone startled Holly. She groped around for the television remote lost in the comforter on top of her bed and paused the comedy she'd been watching on Netflix before noticing that it was Steve calling her. "Hey Steve," she mumbled, wiping sleep away from her eyes.

" _ Did I catch you at a bad time? _ "

"I'm your friend, Steve. It's never a bad time. I was just enjoying my day off by being lazy. What's up?"

" _ How much do you know about a disease called Alzheimer's? _ "

Holly's heart sank. She pushed herself up into a sitting position as her mouth went dry. "I'm no medical doctor, but I know quite a lot. Why?"

" _ I just got off the phone with Peggy's grandson, Hugh. I've got some time before I have to move to D.C., so I wanted to come see her. I called to ask when would be a good time, and he answered. He's living with her full time. She has good days and bad? I pretended I knew what that meant… _ "

She turned off the television, a tear forming in her eye. "Are you at home?"

" _ …yes? _ "

"I'll be there shortly. This is something I'd rather tell you in person. Is that okay?"

" _ Holly… _ "

"Steve, please."

" _ Fine. _ "

"I'll bring dinner." She hung up the phone before heading into her bathroom and showering. With her towel wrapped around her, she made her way to the kitchen. Running her fingers from the inside corners of her black mascara coated eyelashes to the outsides of the lids, Holly stared down at the phone laying on her kitchen counter. She told Steve that she would be on her way to his apartment shortly, but the gravity of the conversation that awaited her there was stifling. Without further hesitation, she grabbed a clean wine glass from her dish rack and poured herself a glass of the open wine on her countertop. If she wanted to ever have any hope of sticking to her self-imposed drink maximum, she should probably find new friends and a new job. But since that wasn't about to happen any time soon, the wine would have to do. She took a deep gulp of the wine that caused her to stifle a belch. She knew what she had to do. Pressing the little green phone icon next to the contact name, she took a deep breath, put the call on speaker phone, and waited for him to pick up on the other end.

" _ Can I help you? Trying to pack here… _ "

"H-Hi Tony," she stammered as she twisted a brown curl around her fingertip. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting, but I wouldn't be calling if it weren't important."

" _ Are you okay? _ " Tony asked, sensing the worry in her voice.

"I'm fine, honestly. But Steve isn't."

" _ Spangles does know that I haven't worked out Erskine's formula and can't magic him back to health by now, right? _ "

"Can you please be serious for a minute? Peggy's grandson just told him that she's got Alzheimer's when he called to make arrangements to go visit her. He called me in a panic, and I'm supposed to be headed to his apartment now with dinner to explain to him just what this all means." Sliding the phone away from her face, she dropped her head to the countertop. "I can't do this, Tony. I can't tell my friend that the woman he's carried a torch for all these years might not remember the fact that he visited her a couple months ago. I can't tell him…"

" _ Hang on for just a sec, okay? _ "

"Sure," Holly whispered. She stayed on the line through what she managed to identify as Tony's excuses to Pepper for needing to take the call and shuffling a sufficient distance out of the room.

" _ You still there? _ "

"I'm still here."

" _ Good. _ "

"Tony, I can't tell him to be strong and patient. I can't…"

" _ Stop it. You can. You're just trying to help him. Do you really want him to have a moment like when your aunt thought you were my mother? He's your friend. Talk to him. _ "

"I'm going to try…"

" _ He's a practical guy, Holly. Okay, so he's a little bit more 'devil may care I've got to serve my country' than dad ever let on, but I think when it comes to her, he'll listen. It's better that he hears it from you. It's not the news he wants to hear, but no one wants that kind of news. _ "

She took another large swallow of the deep burgundy liquid. "And what if I tell him the worst and it's not that bad? Or what if it's worse?"

" _ Holiday Morgan, I need you to seriously calm down. The man fought the Nazis, HYDRA, and watched his best friend die. _ " He sighed, sending static through the phone line. " _ None of that can really prepare him for what's waiting for him in England. The man's had enough shit tossed his way in his life. He may have seen almost everything, but he needs to hear it from you. You're his friend. You may not think you are right now, but you are. You're a good friend. _ "

Not that Tony could see, but Holly was furiously wiping away tears to avoid ruining her makeup before she had to go meet Steve. "T-Thanks, Tony."

" _ Are you crying? Don't do that. I'm no good with crying… _ "

"Happy tears, Tony, I swear."

" _ Let me know his flight details? _ "

"Sure."

* * *

Steve hadn't sat down since he got off the phone with Holly an hour earlier. He'd spent the time pacing his partially packed up apartment. What could be so serious that she would insist on telling him in person? The sudden knock on his door stopped his train of thought. "That took longer than normal," he greeted.

Holly's lower lip began to quiver as she sidestepped her friend. She slowly made her way to the small dining room table and deposited the two pizzas.

"So what couldn't you tell me over the phone?" he inquired, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. When she turned to face him again, he felt a lump form in his throat. He could tell that she was not only trying to keep from crying, but had been crying before she arrived. "What is it?"

"My Aunt Lisa," she began as a tear began to fall "was one of the smartest people I've ever met. I actually found out right before she died that Howard Stark tried to recruit her to work for him. She had a degree in physics, but never really did anything with it because she got married and had a family. She always said she never regretted that choice, but I could tell that wasn't entirely the truth. She would do the  _ New York Times _ crossword every day…in ink. You never saw her without a crochet project or a book in her hand. Then one day, she started forgetting things. We all just wrote it off as her getting old. She  _ was _ sixty-one. As the months went on, they said it was Alzheimer's. But not even a year later…"

When she flopped down in one of the dining table chairs and dropped her head into her hands, Steve ran into the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel and a glass of water. He knelt down next to her and began to rub small circles on her back. "Are you going to be okay?"

Holly nodded and wiped her eyes with the offered paper towel. "Tony and I had been together for barely a year when they had to put her in a home. Her husband had health issues of his own and couldn't take care of her at home anymore. It was her birthday. She just turned sixty-two. I called her that morning to make sure it was okay if Tony and I came by that night for a quick visit on our way to some party or another. She was thrilled. She asked where Tony was whisking me off to this time. We talked about my job. So the two of us stopped by dressed to the nines a few hours later. It didn’t go well.”

"Oh god," he whispered.

"She thought that Tony and I were Howard and Maria. When we insisted we weren't, she got upset. We wound up skipping the party because I couldn't stop crying. I just couldn't get the image out of my head. I couldn't un-see the pain and terror in her eyes when we contradicted something she thought she knew for a fact. This smart, talented woman was so terrified, and I couldn't do a damn thing to help her, Steve." She wiped furiously at her eyes, no longer giving a shit about the state of her eye makeup. "Hell, I called her the next day. She thanked me for the gift I'd left, but she was sorry she was sleeping when I dropped it by."

Rising onto his knees, he pulled her in for a tight hug. So this is what Hugh meant by good days and bad days.

* * *

The next morning, Holly picked Steve up from his apartment in a S.H.I.E.L.D. SUV to take him to the airport. He'd looked at her funny since he'd been expecting a taxi to take him, but got in the car all the same. Few words were exchanged between the two friends until she took an unexpected exit off the highway.

"Holly, this isn't the way to…"

"It's the way to  _ your _ flight, Steve," she directed, taking an exit unfamiliar to Steve. After a few corners, the SUV found itself at the parking lot for a private airfield. Holly exited the car and pulled Steve's bag from the back.

"But I was booked on…"

"You were," she began, motioning for him to follow her up onto the Stark Industries jet. "I've been told that there's a note for you."

When an impeccably dressed female flight attendant appeared and took his bag, he looked back and forth between Holly and the woman. "I don't understand." He warily took a black envelope from the adjacent table after seeing his name on the front in silver ink.

Holly gave her friend's hand a gentle squeeze. "I should go, Steve."

The super-soldier nodded slowly, still holding her hand. "What did you say to Stark?"

"When you called me last night, I… I was gobsmacked. You turned to  _ me _ for answers, and I didn't know how give them to you. I didn't know what to say. I called Tony after I hung up with you. You've met him. He has an answer for everything."

"And what did he say?"

"That you've had enough bad in your life, and despite you having seen almost everything, you needed to hear it from me." She paused to wipe a tear away, only to be drawn into a hug by her friend. "A-And that I may not think I was, but I was being a good friend."

"You are," he whispered with a sad smile, resting his forehead against hers.

"You're not mad at me for telling him?" she asked, taking hold of his forearms.

"How could I be mad at you?"

"I'm sure you could be." Holly backed slowly out of the embrace. She reached up and tried to smooth a bit of his hair down. "Is this how you're wearing it now?"

"I hear it's 'in'," Steve deadpanned.

"It suits you. Peggy may raise an eyebrow, but I like it." She smiled genuinely at his muttered "thanks". "Speaking of Peggy, give her my regards and let me know when you land," she reminded gently.

"Yes  _ mom _ . I'll be on my best behavior and back by ten."

Covering her eyes with her hand, she shook her head and failed to stifle a laugh. "You finally sassed me. I'm honored." She wrapped her arms around his neck for one final hug. "Let me know if you or Peggy need anything."

"I will." Steve made himself comfortable in one of the cream leather seats after Holly waved and exited the plane. He popped open the envelope with his name on it and was shocked to see a handwritten note from Tony.

 

" _ Steve, _

_ Hope you're not mad at Holly for telling me about Peggy. She was just trying to do the right thing by someone who's a better friend to her than I ever was. _

_ When you're ready to come back, call the number at the bottom of this note. That's the number for the pilot. He'll have the plane ready for you. Stay as long as you want. Hang onto the number when you get back, too. Any time you want to go see her, the plane's yours. Every moment you can spend with the woman you love is… I lost my train of thought. _

_ I don't want to get a phone call from you saying this is too much. It's not too much. You'll use the plane and be happy about it. If you try to call, I won't take it. If you want to say thank you or something, send me an email. I'm about to go on a trip of my own. _

_ Shannon, your flight attendant for today, will give you a card from me for Peggy. I've known her all my life, and I'm sad to hear the diagnosis. _

_ -Tony. _

_ PS: I know you can't get drunk, so don't drink all of my booze. Not that Shannon's not used to me attempting the same feat… _ ”

* * *

Meanwhile across the city, Tony was boarding a charter jet at JFK with Pepper in tow. While she was distracted and busy fishing around for something in her handbag, he looked down at the inside of his right wrist.

_ Start _ .

A portal the size of his pinky nail opened at the non-verbal command and waited further instructions.

_ Stop _ .

The portal closed again.

Tony smiled.  _ I  _ am  _ Iron Man. _


	15. Chapter Fourteen

_ And the seas are full of water _

_ That stops by the shore _

_ Just like the riches of grandeur, oh no no _

_ Never reach the port _

_ So let the clouds fill with thunderous applause _

_ And let the lightning be the veins _

_ That fill the sky _

_ With all that they can drop _

_ When it's time to make a change _

_ Make it rain… _

 

Not sleeping had become as much a part of Tony Stark's routine over the past…shit…almost year as say, breathing or drinking an ungodly amount of scotch in a day. Secure in the fact that Pepper was most definitely asleep, he slipped out of their bed in Stark Tower. He stopped in the kitchen for a cup of coffee before making his way to the lab he'd successfully convinced Pepper that he'd only been using to watch television when he couldn't sleep so as not to wake her.

Closing the door behind him, he grabbed the remote and turned on the television to maintain his cover. After pushing the power button, he pushed a seemingly random green button on the same remote and a panel opened in the wall behind him.

" _ Good morning, sir, _ " J.A.R.V.I.S. chimed as Tony pulled a wiring assembly in progress out of the hidden panel.

"It's 2:30 in the morning, J.A.R.V.I.S.. It's not exactly 'good' anything," he grumbled, reaching into a drawer for some tools and wiring.

" _ Would you like some music, or is the normal noise from the television sufficient? _ "

"Just leave it." He plopped down into the chair at the lab table. Taking a sip of the coffee, he began stripping back the red wire casing to expose the metal inside.

What he didn't know as he threw himself into his work over the sounds of the opening to a random  _ Star Trek: The Next Generation _ rerun was that he wasn't alone in the lab.

Pepper peered through the glass door in disbelief. Building things wasn't exactly in her wheelhouse, but she'd been around Tony long enough to know what a leg to an Iron Man suit looked like. It looked like…well…a leg. She'd also been around Tony enough to know what a  _ Star Trek _ episode sounded like. So he was working on a suit, after he promised he was done with that, while pretending to watch television. He'd been lying to her for months. "So when were you going to tell me about this suit?" she asked after pushing the door open.

Tony dropped the knife he'd been using to remove the insulation from the wire at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. "Jesus, Pep… Don't startle someone holding a knife."

She scoffed. "That's what you're worried about? You're not the least bit concerned about the fact that you're down here making a suit with the television as cover? You weren't the least concerned about my sleep schedule. You just didn't want me to know you were lying to me!"

"This isn't a suit. It's something that'll make it so I never have to wear a suit again," he explained quickly after trying in vain to shove the evidence out of sight.

"If it looks like a suit…"

"It's not, Pepper. It's something else entirely, something that can keep us all safe without me."

She sighed as she approached the illuminated lab table. "When did keeping the entire world safe fall on your shoulders, Tony? Isn't there a whole team, a whole secret government department to do that?"

"The moment they all left, and it's just me. If S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't keep a god from another world from trying to kill us all, what makes you think that they can…"

"And if your…thing doesn't work, what then?" She held up a hand to stop him from responding. "You'll build a suit…" When he inadvertently looked back at the hidden cabinet, she let out a short laugh. "There's no future tense, is there? You've already built a suit."

"Pepper, I…" Why did it always seem that the only people who could render him speechless were his ex-girlfriend and his current girlfriend? There must be some special training that happens in California private high schools…

The redhead nodded, backing away slowly. "You know what? I'm done. I don't need this. How many other promises have you broken? Don't answer that." Pepper grabbed the television remote and turned the screen off. "Take your company. Take your life. I can't be a part of them anymore. I can't be let down again."

Tony opened his mouth to say something, anything…but nothing came. Again. "Pepper…"

"Just stay down here. I'm going to call the pilot. My abdication will be official as soon as I can wake up a notary in Los Angeles." She turned to walk back upstairs. "At least you've got one ex-girlfriend who's been entirely honest about why she's leaving," she muttered.

He watched helplessly as she stomped back up the stairs and out of his life. And he couldn't even stand up for himself and give her a good answer. What the fuck was coffee good for anyway?

Wait…

What?

* * *

"With the number of Cubans in major league baseball, you'd think they could at least get decent rum in the ballpark," Holly grumbled across town at Citi Field the next night. She sipped on her mojito with a pout as the teams traded places on the field.

"There's a little thing called a 'trade embargo'. Kennedy put it in place," Steve commented dryly, sipping on his fizzy yellow beer.

"I did know about that, actually. Sorry I got spoiled." She snapped her fingers. "I have some of the rum I like at home. I could make you…"

"I'm much more of a beer person."

She glared at him. "Just because you don't live here full time anymore doesn't mean that you're off the hook for trying new things."

"I know. I haven't turned down anything you've made me try yet." He nudged her shoulder with his much larger one. "Some things just go together…like peanuts, baseball, and…" Steve's answer got cut short when the unmistakable crack of a bat came from the Met up to the plate. With one hand holding his beer, his other hand flew up to grip the bill of his baseball cap. He set his drink down in the cup holder and clapped when the ball went sailing over the right field wall. "Sorry. Uh…where was I? Oh yeah. Peanuts, baseball, and beer."

"I was waiting for you to say 'baseball, mom, and apple pie',  _ Captain _ ," Holly jabbed with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes. "I take a train all the way up here because  _ you _ missed  _ me _ only to be made fun of."

She pouted, wrapping her arms around his bicep. "I was kidding?"

"I know. So was I." Freeing his arm from her grasp, he draped it across her shoulders and pulled his friend into his side. "I missed you, too."

When a gust of cool spring wind rolled through the ballpark, she shivered and huddled closer to Steve. The man was like an overgrown space heater. She wasn't a biochemist, but his natural predilection to being his own heat source could have only helped in the ice.

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

Hours later, Holly opened her eyes with a heavy groan at the sound of her phone vibrating atop the coffee table. The rubber around the perimeter of the case had mercifully muffled the buzz of the phone against the table. For once, the consultant was glad she'd forgotten to turn her ringer on after the filling Cuban dinner she shared with Steve earlier. She carefully freed just enough of herself from her friend's sleepy embrace to grab the phone. "No. Not at 5:30 in the morning," she whispered upon seeing "Tony" on the screen. She sent the call from her ex to voicemail with a yawn and turned off the ringer on her phone altogether. Turning back to Steve, she smiled. The world's first superhero didn't look much like Captain America in his current state.

He'd fallen asleep with on his back on his chosen end section of her new sofa fully reclined with the footrest extended during  _ Cleopatra _ . His disheveled head listed to his right. (It's not like she could blame him. She'd fallen asleep, too. It was a great movie…just long.) In his sleep, his right hand awkwardly groped around the empty space left when she moved to check her phone, presumably looking for her.

Holly rubbed the bags under her eyes that she'd managed to cover with the makeup she'd forgotten to wash off. She shrugged. Her complexion hadn't let her down because she left her makeup on for once.  _ One more night can't hurt _ , she rationalized. Pulling the gold and UCLA blue blanket that her late aunt crocheted as a high school graduation present back over the both of them, she let her friend's wandering hand pull her back to him. She rested her head back on his shoulder and draped her right hand across his middle. With a heavy sigh, she looked up at her repaired ceiling.

Then back to her phone, where a light blinked to tell her she had a new voicemail.

And to Steve's sleeping face mere inches from hers.

And back to her phone.

_ Fuck! _

Detonating weapons in certain parts of the world would be safer than checking her voicemail. Steve would most likely chastise her if he knew she checked it because "nothing good happens after two in the morning". If Tony was hurt, Pepper would take care of it.

Wouldn't she?

She couldn't handle the suspense. With the slightest movements, Holly maneuvered the phone to the edge of the coffee table with her foot before grasping it between her feet and bringing it close enough to grab. She leaned just forward enough that hopefully Steve couldn't hear the message somehow.

_ Well you let it ring more than twice. You're not ignoring me. You must be asleep. What time is it? J.A.R.V.I.S. tells me that it's 2:30 am here, meaning it's…5:30 am for you? Yeah. Y-You have to be asleep. I've been losing track of time l-lately. I didn't think it was that late for you. I-I just wanted to see if I could talk to you for a while. I have a question. But you're asleep. Sorry to bother you. I'm not even sure why I'm leaving this message. Goodnight, baby. _

Holly lowered the phone from her face and set it back on the table. This wasn't good. On several levels. Swallowing hard, she settled back down into her previous position. She closed her eyes and tried to fall back asleep curled up against her friend, but found herself unable to stop thinking about the voicemail. Something was wrong…

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

"Stark wanted to talk to you in the middle of the night?" Steve asked, setting a coffee mug down in front of Holly the next morning.

She fingered the handle with one hand as the other drummed against her kitchen counter. "What woke you, the phone vibrating or me moving to answer it?"

"The phone. I've had far too many nights where a vibration could mean a bomb. That being said, I did remember that I was safe in your apartment. Until you moved." He shrugged. "Sorry."

"I'm not exactly sure what Tony wanted, and I don't exactly care."

He looked down over the rim of his coffee cup at her. "The fact that you haven't stopped staring at your phone since I walked in the room tells me something different."

Holly twisted a dark curl between her fingers a few times before responding. "While the thought of Tony Stark getting drunk doesn't surprise anyone, the thought of him calling me in that state should." She moved to pick up her coffee cup and stopped to look up at her friend. "The man found out he was dying not long after we ended things. Obviously, he's recovered, but I know from various sources that he spent a good amount of time at that point inebriated. He never called me, not even once. I found out from Romanoff after the whole thing was over. Hell, I didn't speak to him for a  _ year _ before they pulled you out of the ice."

Steve slid into the chair across the table from her. "He's behaving out of the ordinary. You're concerned."

"I…I don't know what I am honestly. Drunk dialing wasn't in his repertoire before, but times change."

"Are you going to call him back?"

She shook her head gently as she took the first sip of the hot coffee. "Forgetting that he ripped me a new one the last time I called him because I was concerned, I don't owe him anything. So no, I'm not going to call him back."

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

Later that night, Holly punched her pillow and rolled onto her back. No matter what position she tried, she couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. One night curled against the super soldier currently asleep in her spare bedroom, and she was forever ruined for sleeping alone. Or something.

After a few minutes on her back with her hands folded across her stomach, a contented smile crossed her face. She felt herself sinking into the soft mattress after her eyes finally drifted closed. Sleep wasn't far off. Finally.

…Until the phone rang.

At four in the morning.

She reluctantly rolled toward the bedside table to retrieve her phone and let out an audible groan. It was Tony…again. She swiped the screen to send him to voicemail for the second time in almost twenty-four hours. If it was a legitimate call, she'd get another call from S.H.I.E.L.D. momentarily.

Settling back into the one comfortable position she'd found, she closed her eyes again. Sleep was once again near…until he phone beeped that there was a new voicemail.

She stared at the clock on her phone for a solid five minutes in anticipation of the S.H.I.E.L.D. phone call. None came.

She clicked the voicemail icon on her phone.

_ It only rang twice, Hol. You ignored me. I know that I don't exactly have the right to ask for an audience with you, but I do really want to talk to you. J.A.R.V.I.S. is a font of information, but he can't exactly hack your brain. I called before, but I know it's still late for you. Please call me back? I…I need you. _

Tapping the screen, she deleted the two voicemails from her ex-boyfriend in the past two days. She laid the phone back on the bedside table and covered her face with the spare pillow from her bed.

So much for sleeping.

* * *

Noticing that his second voicemail had gone unanswered, Tony Stark picked up his phone.  _ Third time's a charm _ . He double checked his clock and calendar. Where it was 12:43 in the afternoon for him, it would be 3:43 in the afternoon for Holly. Plus it was Memorial Day, a Monday. She never slept past nine in the morning on a weekday, even if she had the day off.

But enough with her. He was stone sober. She might have dismissed his earlier messages as drunk dials, but not this one. And if he had to resort to dirty tricks to get her to call him back, he would. It's not like he was above them or anything. He shoved his phone into the back pocket of his pants and sauntered over to the expansive, rebuilt wine cellar that took up an entire wall of his new lab. Pepper left, but she left all her wine. It was totally fair game. Besides, it was five o'clock somewhere over the Atlantic at this point. Selecting a bottle of white wine from the chilled section, he opened it and poured a glass. He pulled the phone from his pocket before dropping into a nearby chair and double tapping Holly's name to dial her again.

More than two rings. Maybe she'd gone to a cookout and left her phone in her purse. Maybe. Or maybe she just let it ring so he wouldn't think she ignored him. Either way, she would call him back after this message.

"I've tried to reach you twice to no avail, Holly. Maybe you dismissed those attempts as drunk dials. You wouldn't be  _ entirely _ wrong in that assumption. But now," he paused to take a sip of the…oh…pinot grigio he'd pulled. "That couldn't be further from the truth. I'm asking as Iron Man for you to get back with me. I need to talk to you at your earliest convenience." He looked down at his wine glass, hoping for more inspiration. "I… Your underlayment. I need your help."

He quickly pressed the button to end the call and dropped the phone onto the table beside him. She wouldn't have any choice but to respond now. But how exactly would she respond?


	16. Chapter Fifteen

 

_ There's a grief that can't be spoken. _   
_ There's a pain goes on and on. _   
_ Phantom faces at the window. _   
_ Phantom shadows on the floor. _

 

The doorbell rang, causing Tony Stark to bolt upright from his awkward sleeping position. He'd fallen asleep with his cheek resting against a calf plate and a precision tool in his hand. In his sudden movements, he'd thrown a liquor bottle down to the floor.

"Sir, you have a visitor," J.A.R.V.I.S. announced, earning an eye roll from his maker.

He stood and popped his back before heading upstairs. "Thank you for stating the obvious. Who is it? I know that camera works."

" _ It appears to be Miss Morgan. Were we expecting her? _ "

"No, actually." Shaking his head in disbelief, he made his way upstairs to his front door. He opened the door warily. "Sorry, I already gave at the office," he quipped with a sarcastic smile while failing to suppress a yawn.

Holly pulled off her sunglasses. " _ You _ called  _ me _ ." She held up a white paper bag when he met her with a cockeyed expression. "Figured you might be hungover since you've taken to drunk dialing me. I brought In-N-Out. Animal Style double-double and fries."

Against his better judgment, Tony wordlessly stepped aside and motioned for her to cross into his rebuilt mansion after plucking the bag full of greasy food from her grasp. As soon as he'd opened the bag, the familiar smells of one of his favorite meals began to make his mouth water. "I suppose I can spare five minutes."

She quickly scanned the window-lined foyer before realizing that Tony had left the room. Holly quickly jogged after him and found herself in the kitchen. "It looks nice, Tony."

"Something tells me that you didn't fly across the country to eye my house," he mumbled, mouthful of cheeseburger.

"You're right. I didn't. I came three thousand miles to get to the bottom of why the  _ fuck _ you have been drunk dialing me all week." She dug her fingertips into the countertop beside him. "Your last voicemail,  _ Iron Man _ , said you needed my help with my underlayment. So here I am. What's the problem?"

Swallowing the enormous bite he'd taken of the burger too soon, he winced. "I just woke up. I'm not dealing with your shouting before I eat breakfast."

She scoffed. "I drop my life and come out here, and this is what you do?"

"It's not like you told me you were coming."

"You're right. I should have called." Holly blinked several times, pressing up on the roots of her eyelashes. "You might have showered before I got here. Jesus tapdancing Christ, Stark, how has Pepper not threatened to leave you for the Old Spice guy yet?"

Tony dropped the remaining third of the burger on top of the questionably clean countertop and turned toward his  _ other _ ex-girlfriend. "Pepper left before I called you the first time."

She clenched her fist. "Well when is she coming back?"

"She's not. She left for good."

Sweeping her long hair off her shoulder, she turned away from him. "So that's why you've been blowing up my phone," she sighed. "She's gone and you want attention."

"Fuck you. It's not like you're the only one allowed to have problems. I'm allowed to have them too, y'know? Oh wait. You don't know that. You didn't exactly make it easy for me to talk to you after I got back from Afghanistan. And then you ran away after you left me. You're either on top or you're gone."

"For fuck's sake, you were  _ dying _ and didn't contact me at all. I found out from Romanoff after I went to Rome by myself.  _ Y'know _ , the trip you promised me and I never got?"

" _ That's _ where you're taking this?" He swept the remnants of the free meal into the trash can with an angry laugh. "I didn't want to propose in my damn garage, Hol. I wanted to do it in Rome with all the grandeur you deserved."

"And when was the first or last time you asked me to go to Rome with you?"

"My plan was to take you when I got back from Afghanistan. And then the obvious happened. Then I offered to take you away for a while. I still wanted to take you to Rome. I still wanted to propose."

She crossed the kitchen and rested her elbows on the edge of the sink. Beginning to breathe heavily, Holly began to question her choice of in-flight meal. Between the preservatives and the memories, she fought the urge to be sick. "You wanted to take me away so you could propose with a price in mind. I got Hal drunk at Christmas last year. After all this time, he finally let the number slip. Really, an even  _ billion _ was your starting point for the woman you loved so much you wanted to marry's family legacy? If the company were  _ only _ worth that, maybe. So if we factor in the $4.8 million I made from  _ my _ contribution to your Jericho missiles with the company worth at the time, you expected my family to take a billion dollar  _ hit _ because you were going to propose? Was I worth that little to you?"

"It's business. You start out lower…"

Holly looked up at the kitchen ceiling and covered her mouth. "I didn't spend my college career taking business classes because that role went to Hal. That doesn't make me an idiot. You started the deal before Afghanistan and only killed it when I wouldn't marry you."

"The deal was only supposed to go through after we actually got married. Howard and your grandfather had their differences, but neither of them wanted you to be treated like a piece of livestock."

Her façade began to crumple as long-suppressed pieces began to fall into place. "But you were willing to risk it. You asked me to marry you with a price in mind…." She waved her hand in front of her face a few times to stir the air. Her breathing came in shallow spurts. "Hal knew all of this and agreed anyway?"

Tony nodded, knowing there was nothing else to do. "He did. The board and I were prepared to offer more…"

"Did Poppy know?"

"He knew of the idea, yes. In theory, he was on board. But he passed…"

"…he couldn't agree to something so heartless," she interrupted in disbelief.

"Heartless? What exactly do you call staying at my side while I made weapons, mourning when I went missing, and leaving the minute you had enough good P.R. from playing the doting, devoted girlfriend?"

"You fucked someone else because you were  _ bored _ !" she shrieked.

"And you could have just as easily strolled into that bedroom the  _ minute _ " he punched the counter for emphasis "I got home and left my sorry ass, but you didn't. Don't start with me, sweetheart."

"Do you want to know why I didn't? Hint: the bad P.R. line wasn't true."

"You were  _ awfully _ good at selling it. You ought to win a fucking Oscar for that one." Tony leaned his hip up against the counter and crossed his arms. "What else have you lied to me about? Go on."

"The reason I was in the hospital two days before you got back. I didn't have the stomach flu."

"Oh this is one I've got to hear." He rolled his eyes.

Holly reached into her purse and removed a tattered envelope. "You really do." As she passed the envelope to him, she sobbed.

Tony suddenly lost the ability to breathe when he opened the envelope that contained a sonogram with her name printed in white letters on the image…next to the date. 06 August 2008. He reached out and gripped the chair to steady himself. As his thoughts began to race, one observation hit him. He'd never seen her with a baby, ever. And someone bearing his child couldn't keep it secret for much longer than a New York minute. So where was his child? He quickly closed the distance between them, grabbing her roughly by the biceps. "What in the hell did you do?"

"If you hadn't deleted all your voicemail messages without listening to them, you'd know. But no, go ahead and assume I'm a heartless bitch." Snatching the picture back, she wrestled free from his grip and continued to cry softly. "If you want to know what I  _ did _ do…" She trailed off and lovingly stroked the tiny little hand in the image. "For the record, I got rid of all the alcohol in my apartment. I left yours where it was, but never touched it. I bought  What to Expect When You're Expecting . I started taking prenatal vitamins after I went to the doctor. This was taken at fourteen weeks, two weeks before they found you. I did everything I could to ensure  _ your son  _ had the best of starts in life."

A son… _ his _ son? He'd joked with Maya about a secret kid in the car, but this… " _ My so… W-Where is he _ ?"

"H-He's dead!" she screamed, her voice breaking. She shoved him away. "I was in the hospital because I miscarried him the day they found you."

"And you never told me."

"My therapist said not to, at least not yet. She said you'd been through god knows what and that telling you too soon would…"

" _ I HAD A SON _ !" he roared, emboldened by the buzz he was riding.

"Who died before he ever saw the light of day!" she shouted back at him.

"Which begs the question of why you were going to keep the spawn of a man you were planning on leaving."

"If you'd come back on time, I probably wouldn't have…if we're being completely honest."

"So then when I didn't, you did a hundred and eighty degree turn and decided to keep a dead man's baby? The same dead man you wanted to leave?"

"I wasn't going to be the one to tell Howard when I saw him in hell that I killed all that was left of his family because his son was a shit bag."

"You were scared of a dead man who was a shit father anyway? You should have been scared of an actual threat."

"What actual threat? There wasn't one that I knew of at the time," Holly defended.

"Obie tried to have me killed for control of the company!"

"Again, not something I knew at the time! There's a reason they say 'hindsight's twenty-twenty', Tony. It's a reason I fully accept."

"In general, I don't doubt that you could or would protect your offspring. But insert  _ that _ timing, the fact that your friends were actually your enemies, and your ignorance into the equation?" Tony pulled a bottle of scotch from the mostly empty pantry and poured an excessive glass full. "If you ever said that child was mine, Obie would have killed you both the moment I was declared dead."

"If I'd thought for a moment that my child was in danger, do you think that my family couldn't have protected him?"

"Only if you relocated to the Moon and changed your name." He downed the glass in one massive drink. "The second you announced he was mine, nothing could have protected him; not even for all the money in Morgan's accounts. Keeping that baby was the most irresponsible thing you've ever done."

Holly wrapped her fingers around the first solid object she could, a soap dispenser next to the sink, and hurled it at her ex-boyfriend's head. She grunted angrily when she missed, yet again. "I stayed because I needed you, Tony," she confessed as she began to cry harder.

Tony stopped his almost-tirade and looked at Holly. He'd seen a tear from her, but never…this.

"I needed you to tell me that it wasn't my fault he died. I did everything right and still failed him. I stayed because J.A.R.V.I.S. told me you deleted your messages, which meant I could tell you when the time was right. I wanted to be there for you, but you didn't need me. You had a new toy." Looking up at him, she wiped her eyes. "Maybe I was reckless and irresponsible." She paused to catch her breath before continuing. "But I will never apologize for making the decision to keep him. You and I both know that people do the right things for the wrong reasons every day."

Just when he thought he was feeling sorry for her… "And what is that supposed to mean?"

_ He's going to start this? _ She clenched her jaw and fists. "All the things you kept from me? Proposing? Right things. Wrong reasons."

"So asking you to marry me was for the wrong reasons? I wanted…"

She wiped her eyes again as she circled him. "In Rome, I know."

Tony rolled his eyes when his phone began to ring in his back pocket. "Jesus Christ," he muttered as he read the caller i.d. "Cap, this is a bad time. Like apocalyptically bad."

" _ I just tried to call Holly and can't get her. _ "

"Talk about irony," he muttered in Holly's direction. He shook his head while Holly motioned toward the phone. "Funnily enough, she's the reason this is an apocalyptically bad time to call me. Can she call you back when she's done screaming at me in my own kitchen?"

" _ Put her on, Stark. _ "

Tony held the sliver of a phone away from his face, putting the call on speaker. "You're on speakerphone, Captain."

Holly ran toward the outstretched phone, clearing her throat to hide the emotion still in her voice. "S-Steve? What's going on?"

" _ You're with Stark? _ "

"In California. I'm within strangling distance of the man. What's going on?"

" _ I need you to stay there. _ "

Holly met Tony's gaze before turning her attention back to the phone. "What's happening, Steve?"

" _ No matter what you see or hear, I need you to stay with Stark. _ "

She snatched the phone away from Tony. "But I can help!"

" _ Not to this level. And if anything were to get out of hand, you're with Stark. I know you're not his biggest fan, Holly. I need you to trust him until you hear different from me. I'm not getting off this line until you swear. _ "

Holly shifted her body, crossing her fingers behind her back. "I swear."

" _ Tony, if you have to lock her in a closet to hold her to that, do it. She probably has her fingers crossed behind her back. _ "

Before he could agree, the phone line went dead.

"I'm going."

"No you're not, even if I have to lock you in a closet. I make my own rules…unless Captain  _ fucking _ America has a better idea."

She scoffed. "You're not going to lock me in…"

"Yes I will."

"Tony, don't…" she whined.

"Holly, yes," he retorted, cocking an eyebrow. "J.A.R.V.I.S. has the doors and windows monitored. If you try to leave, I'm taking Spangles's suggestion and lock you in the pantry."

She raised her hands in surrender. "Can I get my bags out of my rental or… You can come with me, if you're scared I'll take off."

He motioned in the general direction of the front door, following her when she began to walk in the right direction. By the time he stepped outside, she had the trunk open and enough luggage for a family of four on the concrete driveway. "Moving in?"

Holly used her sleeve to wipe away at a tear track on her cheek. "You said you needed help with the underlayment. I came straight from the airport." She dropped her arms to her sides when he continued to simply stand in the doorway. "Are you going to be a gentleman and help me with my bags or what?"

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

Holly lay flat on her back in the bed in the guest room she'd been ushered to along with her bags. She tried to nap, but gave up when she couldn't get worry in Steve's voice or the earlier shouting match that left her throat raw out of her head. Whatever was happening was big. She couldn't stand not knowing. When she couldn't stand it anymore, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and tapped out a quick message to Sharon Carter.

She dropped the phone onto her abdomen and resumed staring at the ceiling as she waited on a reply from the blonde agent. A few moments later, the reply came.

"Oh my god," she whispered after reading the partially coded message. Holly leaped up from the bed and grabbed her purse. In her rush to get downstairs to Tony, she tripped over her own shoes and fell into the hallway. She cursed, pushed herself back up, and took the stairs two at a time until she reached the rebuilt basement garage slash lab. She jiggled the handle of the thick glass door, only to find it locked. Looking through into the lab, she saw Tony…wearing headphones. Knocking would be fruitless.

" _ I think you'll find your access code unchanged, Miss Morgan _ ," J.A.R.V.I.S. chimed in.

When a number pad appeared on the glass, she typed in the four digit number she hadn't used in years and opened the door. "If I could, I'd kiss you." Holly jogged over to the work-bench and ripped the earbuds out of Tony's ears.

"What the fuck?" he shouted, grabbing the headphones back from her. "J.A.R.V.I.S., you told her that her code still worked, didn't you?"

" _ Yes sir. _ "

"He talks too much. I'd deprogram him if I didn't need him." He put down the tools he held and looked sternly down at his ex-girlfriend. "I don't care what it is. You're not leaving. The  _ last _ thing I need is to anger the one senior citizen that could kick my ass seven ways from Sunday."

"It's not out of your sight if you come with me." She brought up the message from Sharon and shoved the phone in his face.

Tony took the phone and held it away from his face just far enough to read it.

_ Org. compromised. Jules DOA. A.P. in charge & hunting for Brown Recluse and General Patton. Insight is a go. Stay safe. Follow General's orders. _

"What does this message even mean?" Glancing at the top of her screen to ascertain the sender of the message, he handed the phone back to her. "And who is 'Thirteen Days'?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't really like it when a consultant uses words like 'Director Fury', 'Black Widow', and 'Captain America' in unsecure text messages. 'Thirteen Days', a.k.a. Sharon Carter, and I aren't the best friends in the world, but we're friends. Code names. In that order."

"…Jules?"

Holly rolled her eyes. "He looks like that guy in  _ Pulp Fiction _ . You're the one that made me watch it so I wouldn't look stupid when you took me to Tarantino's party that one time."

He tossed his head back and forth a few times. "I guess I can see it."

"The rest of the message I get…but 'Insight'?"

"Probably 'Project Insight'. I improved the helicarrier engine design for this. I don't know much more than that. Maybe it's in the files I hacked from the helicarrier last year. I haven't been through all of them."

She slid the phone into the back pocket of her jeans. "Maybe…but do we have time to look now? I need to get to Poppy's lab."

"Why?"

"What part of 'stay safe' do you think means leaving me unarmed? You have all of these suits. I've got nothing. There are guns there."

He pointed to a white suit on display in a recessed area of the back wall. "I've got a suit you can wear. I made it for Pepper…"

"You know those videos of cats trying to walk with socks on?" When a grin caused a corner of his mouth to turn up, she rolled her eyes. "Of course you do. You probably borrowed a cat and made half of them. Tony, that would be me in one of those suits. I'd be the cat in socks. I don't doubt the quality of your suits. If whatever Steve's dealing with spills over here, I don't want to be fumbling in a life or death situation. Give me a gun and it's not fumbling. You know that as well as I do. Like I said, I'm not out of your sight if you come, too."

"Fine."

"I've driven your R8's in the past. Same with your Tesla," she commented, eyeing the three visible cars parked close to the exit of the garage, holding out her hand. "We can take the Ferrari. And I'll drive. I've never driven the 458."

After taking the scenic route to the Morgan Defense and Armor compound on the other side of Los Angeles, a drive that had Tony praying to Point Break more than once as Holly tested out the capabilities 4.5 liter V8 engined supercar, the former couple entered the old lab that Michael Morgan passed down to his granddaughter as a graduation present.

The lab that the elder Morgan used for forty years clearly hadn't been used in a few years, Tony mused as Holly turned on the lights. He looked around the massive warehouse-turned-lab with a nostalgic smile. Somewhere, she was chatting away and gathering guns…but none of that reached him. Instead, he focused on the memories of this place flashing before him: coming here with Howard to arrange Desert Fire Parties, coming to visit Michael after Holly's parents passed away…

But those were fleeting in comparison to the ones that included the woman in front of him. He ran his fingers along the wooden work table that definitely pre-dated him and allowed himself to get lost in the memories. There were the various all-nighters they pulled as she refined her thesis and Power Point for the defense.

Then there was the afternoon of her master's graduation. Michael had given her the keys and her own nameplate for this very lab over a post-ceremony lunch at her favorite restaurant. Of course, he'd also given her a job. She'd hopped in Tony's Audi after lunch. After stopping for some champagne, he drove them to her new lab. He knew she was a giggly drunk, but he'd never seen her  _ this  _ giggly. She didn't need any of the champagne he'd bought…but it was a day of celebration.

 

_ After popping the cork, Tony poured each of them a generous glass of champagne. "Congratulations, baby." He grinned and raised his glass. “You're the smartest woman I know, and you have the paperwork to prove it." _

_ "You make me sound like a show dog with her papers." Holly let out a short laugh and returned his toast. She looked down at the expensive liquid in her glass and back up at him. "I'm sure you know smarter women than me." _

_ "I don't, actually. You're it." _

_ "Tony… The smartest woman you know is never going to run her own company. I've said I'd rather be in R&D because board meetings aren't for me, but what about Dad? What about what he wanted for me?" _

_ He set his glass down on the old work table and brought hers to join it. "You were seven when he passed, Holly. Not only would he have wanted someone to run it until you were old enough, do you honestly think that he would have wanted you to run it if you didn't want to? Board meetings aren't for you. You've told me, and I've picked up on it from you. Scott wouldn't have wanted you to do anything you didn't want to do. You're right where he'd want you to be…you and your controlling interest." _

_ Her bottom lip began to wobble, and she brought a hand up to wipe away at the tears threatening to ruin her eye makeup. "I shouldn't remember more about the funeral than my own parents," she whispered. "I have to put on an old home movie to be able to hear their voices." _

_ Tony pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her blonde hair. He didn't believe in a heaven or hell or even karma…which was suddenly problematic. How does one comfort a woman who was understandably not over the fact that her family was ripped from her at the tender age of seven without belief in any of those things? _

_ With a final sniffle, Holly backed out of the embrace. She picked up her glass from the work table. "But they wouldn't want me to be all weepy on today of all days. I'm in R&D now." She carefully wiped away the last of her tears and drained the rest of her champagne. "Maybe I'll be taken seriously one day." _

_ "I take you  _ very _ seriously." Well at least he didn't have to try to be comforting. Now, he could just skip straight to being Tony Stark and…He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and produced a piece of paper. "I checked. You happen to have a week of free time before you start your new job, Big Shot." _

_ "What's that?" _

_ "Your week-long recovery from your general lack of sleep in the last six months." _

_ She snatched the paper from his hand and opened it. "S-Sardinia?" _

_ "Is amazing this time of year," Tony answered with a smirk. "And if you're done here, I need you to pack a bag. You have a Mile High Club to join." _

 

By the time Tony shook his head after his long and uncharacteristic trip down memory lane, he wasn't in her lab anymore. He was still riding shotgun in his own Ferrari…which was currently parked in the Whole Foods parking lot with no sign of his ex-girlfriend.

Until she opened the car door.

"I peeked inside your pantry. Your diet is worse than an internet troll, Tony," Holly accused, sliding back into the driver's seat. "If I'm going to be stuck to you, you're going to eat like a normal person."

"How long were you in there?"

"Twenty minutes. I asked if you wanted to come in with me. All you said was 'You happen to have a week of free time before you start your new job, Big Shot'." She reached over and grabbed his chin, forcing him to face her. "You've called me 'Big Shot' exactly once. And I know you're not exactly Mister Nostalgic. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just drive, Big Shot."

With a curt nod, she pressed the button to bring the supercar to life. She wanted to tell her opinion of the shouty Italian stallion but decided to keep silent. He'd been checked out for the better part of the last hour. She completed her entire grocery trip with the one phrase he'd said in that time in her head. Nostalgia was never part of his repertoire. Clearly, he was thinking of the day she got her master's. The day before he told her that he loved her. Underlayment or not, coming to California was a bad idea. Maybe if she'd stayed in New York, she could have helped Steve. At least Tony would be getting some actual nutrition…


	17. Chapter Sixteen

_ I never loved nobody fully _

_ Always one foot on the ground _

_ And by protecting my heart truly _

_ I got lost in the sounds _

_ I hear in my mind _

_ All these voices _

_ I hear in my mind _

_ All of these words _

_ I hear in mind _

_ All this music _

_ And it breaks my heart _

 

Tony finally pulled his headphones out of his ears and stretched. Holly had carefully parked his Ferrari and left him in his basement lab to go back to work on the suit updates he'd been tinkering with before they sped away for guns and groceries. She wasn't in the room with him, but he felt…better. It was like the mere knowledge that he wasn't alone in his living space was already doing him a world of good, despite the earlier battle royale. His face suddenly scrunched up in confusion when a new smell began wafting into the lab. A  _ really _ good smell. Sausage? He put down the tools he'd been working with and slowly made his way upstairs.

Upon entering the kitchen, he instantly identified the source of the delightful aroma. Holly stood in front of the stove-top, humming softly as she added some seasoning to a large pot. He smiled. "Smells amazing," he finally remarked, revealing his presence.

When he came to stand beside her at the stove, she grabbed the spoon she'd been using to taste and raised a handful of soup out of the pot. "Open," she commanded, holding her hand under the spoon to prevent spillage.

He raised an eyebrow. "You do realize that I still do hate being handed things."

"I'm not  _ handing _ so much as  _ feeding _ . Open."

Tony quickly realized that this was an argument he was not going to win. With a sarcastic eye roll, he complied with the order.

Holly tipped the contents of the spoon into his mouth. She watched as he chewed the bits of chorizo, lima bean, and onion in the soup.

"Needs a hint more salt. But more importantly, when did you learn to cook?"

"I've been expanding my horizons," she bragged. "Bought a few cookbooks. This is from one of my Gordon Ramsay books."

He checked his watch. "It's a bit late tonight, but y'know, if you want Ramsay's food, we can probably get a table in at London tomorrow night."

Turning back to the soup with a huff, she added a pinch of salt. "Ungrateful bastard," she muttered, making sure he heard her. She looked back at him when she felt his hand on her waist.

"I didn't mean it like that, Hol. It's really good. I was just offering… Actually, I don't know why I even said that." He dropped his head to rest on the back of her neck.

"Tony, I'm not your girlfriend. I haven't been for a long time. I'm not even a woman you're trying to sleep with. I'm still here because Captain fucking America said I had to be. Besides, we were at each other's throats a few hours ago." She spun around to face him again. "And let's be honest, he'd yell at his staff to stay open just for you. It wouldn't be the first time, remember?"

"True." He smiled at the memory in question. "It's probably been ages since someone took you somewhere nice, though. If you want to go, just say…"

"The crying Englishman." When he started to laugh, she shoved him away. "Make yourself useful and open the damn wine. I should never have told you that story."

Tony sniggered as he opened the red wine. "Probably not." He grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard and poured her drink before grabbing his customary scotch. Sitting down on one of the island stools, he watched as she carefully ladled soup into two bowls. "Thanks for cooking," he offered when she sat down beside him and handed him a bowl and spoon.

"I was starving, and despite that argument we're apparently pretending didn't happen earlier, this recipe makes a  _ lot _ of food. Living on scotch and cereal isn't good for you, Tony," she chastised after swallowing the first spoonful of soup.

"It's good, Holly."

"Thank Steve the next time you see him. He needed to try new things, and I needed the practice. I'm too old to not be able to cook full meals." She moved the soup around the bowl with her spoon without eating any. "And we both needed a friend."

He smiled sadly. "He's lucky to have you in his corner," he admitted.

"I'm lucky to have him, honestly. Ever since New York and my knee surgery, it was like I had a personal valet that I didn't hire. Been slowly paying him back with food and a pop culture education." Holly let go of the spoon, resting the handle against the rim of the bowl. Dropping her forehead into her left palm, she took her phone from her pocket and checked for new messages. When the device didn't show so much as a Facebook notification, she squeezed her eyes shut. "My kingdom for a scrap of news. I'm so worried about him, Tony."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I know you are. I am, too, believe it or not. An army of aliens and two gods barely got a rise out of the man. Whatever this is, it's bad enough that he  _ sounds  _ worried. And he's shaken enough to stick you with me indefinitely."

"Yeah, that's not helping the situation."

"I'm sorry." He squeezed her shoulder gently as he thought about his next words carefully. "You were right, you know, about why I called you. Well, sort of."

"So you 'sort of' want attention because you're suddenly single?"

"Maybe you're not the only one who needs a friend."

She swiveled in her chair to look him in the eye, both bowls of soup long forgotten. "You sure picked a helluva way of…"

"You're the one who walked in and started it."

"I started it? I didn't drunk dial you because…" She held up one hand before scratching at the corner of her eye. "I don't know how long we're going to be stuck in each other's company, but I don't have the strength to spend the whole time arguing with you."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Me neither. Truce?"

"Life's too short to argue about shit in the past that no one can change, so yeah. Truce."

"Good." Without another word, he resumed eating the first meal he'd had in a week that wasn't microwaved.

Once they'd both finished, she stored the leftovers in the now stocked fridge and rinsed the dirty dishes before pouring another glass of wine. "Now that we've called a truce, you called about an issue with the underlayment?"

"Which wasn't true."

"I'm sorry, what?" Holly inquired sternly with a hand on her hip.

"The underlayment is fine."

"So I flew all the  _ fuck _ the way out here for nothing? I could have been helping Steve this whole time, but…"

"It's not so much an issue as a development," Tony interrupted. He raised his left wrist with a knowing grin.  _ Start. _

"Holy fucking shit!" she screamed, leaping up onto the countertop as her underlayment began to appear over his skin and clothes. "Tony, what did you do?"

He laughed as pieces of the Iron Man suit began to fly up the stairs and attach themselves to his body. "I completed Maya Hansen's work."

"The fucking botanist?" She shrugged when asked how she knew. "She was on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar."

"I took Extremis and incorporated the armor and underlayment into it."

"I'm flattered and creeped out at the same time."

The faceplate of the armor flipped up, revealing his face. "Neat, huh? I control it with my  _ mind _ ."

"I'm not exactly sure that 'neat' is the word that best encapsulates this," she admitted warily. "Brilliant comes close. Tony, this is…"

"Have I finally got you at a loss for words?"

"Not hardly," she finally grinned. "You're going to have to better explain how this works, and not with words like River Tam used in  _ Firefly _ ."

"I knew you having seen that show would come in handy one day." He batted his eyes. "Talk nerdy to me?"

Holly climbed down off the countertop as gracefully as possible. "Maybe later." She grabbed her wine glass and the bottle and pointed toward the staircase across the kitchen and living room that led downstairs to the lab. "Now you're going to march your happy ass downstairs and explain this to me."

"Yes ma'am," Tony breathed with a salute, motioning for her to lead the way.

"Question number one," she started, setting her glass and the bottle down and crossing her arms over her chest once they were downstairs. "I couldn't see the arc reactor through the underlayment, and I know I left a hole for it. But then it's there when the chest plate attaches. What the hell did you do?"

_ Stop _ . "It's only in the suit as a power source. The shrapnel's gone, so I don't need it," he explained while the armor disconnected and stored itself. When she looked at him clearly dumbfounded, he peeled off his grey tee shirt to reveal his reactor-less chest. "It's amazing what the combination of extremely delicate surgery and a program that fills in and upgrades the genome can do. And maybe some reconstructive surgery."

She walked slowly over to him and reached out to touch the place where the arc reactor had been for almost four and a half years, only to withdraw her hand when it was a fraction of an inch away from his skin. She looked up into his dark eyes to silently ask for permission to go further. When he nodded his assent, she traced the circular scar that marked the circumference of the reactor.

He took in a sharp breath when her cool palm came to rest over his reconstructed sternum.  _ Some things never change _ , he mused. She did the same thing years earlier in the exact opposite situation. She was so close that he could smell her sweet, floral perfume. The intoxicating smell combined with her eyes meeting his was almost enough to make him dip his head just enough to kiss her despite still being cross with her.

"Well, there went all my Darth Vader and Cybermen jokes," she said with a chuckle.

"Guess you're going to have to start humming 'Iron Man' when I walk into rooms." He shouldn't want to kiss her, not when he still had a few bones to pick with her. Not when the engagement ring was buried in the ocean beneath the remnants of his old house because he threw it there. But all the reasons in the world couldn't erase the fact that he still wanted to. After all, she's the one he called… He grabbed his shirt from the back of the chair where it landed and put it back on. Maybe being fully clothed would keep him from making out with his ex-girlfriend.

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

She'd said goodnight to Tony hours ago. But saying goodnight and falling asleep didn't go hand in hand, especially when she was still mentally beating herself up for coming that close to making out with her ex-boyfriend. She connected her phone to the charger and laid it on the pillow next to her, just in case someone sent her any kind of word. J.A.R.V.I.S.  pointed her in the direction of the television remote, which resulted in her reclining in the bed and flipping through the channels. She eventually happened upon a channel showing  _ The Silence of the Lambs _ .

Holly put her left hand over her hip and sighed as she changed her position to try to get more comfortable. The last thing she remembered was smiling at the iconic line about fava beans and Chianti.

 

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 

Several hours later, she found herself rudely awakened from a deep sleep when an ear-shattering cry of terror came from the bedroom across the hall. Thinking the worst, she quickly grabbed the large caliber handgun she took from her old lab. Holly padded quietly out of the guest bedroom and across the moonlit hall, holding her gun ready to fire. Peering into the master bedroom, she let out the breath she'd been holding when she saw Tony writhing in his sleep. She silently deposited the gun on the dresser just inside the room and climbed onto the bed. "T-Tony, you need to wake up," she began as she gently shook him awake.

When his eyes flew open and saw the concern in hers, he shoved himself out of the warm bed and stumbled forward a few steps before falling to his knees. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he muttered, folding his legs up under him. "I-I didn't mean to wake you. It was just a stupid d-dream." He brought the bottom hem of the black tank top he'd worn to bed up over his face to wipe away the tears before she saw them.  _ Now I've done it _ , he thought.  _ You've just proven to her that you're still just a hot mess. She doesn't need your brand of crazy.  _ His self-hatred stopped at the sensation of something cool on the back of his neck. Dropping the bottom of the shirt, he turned his head to see Holly holding a cold washcloth.

She sank down beside him and pressed the cloth to each side of his neck. "You were moving a lot back there. Didn't hurt yourself, did you?" she whispered, eyes searching his exposed skin for cuts or bruises. When he shook his head, she nodded in relief. "I'm here, Tony. It's okay. What do you need me to do?" Holly let out a surprised yelp when his only response was to pull her against him tightly and rest his head on her shoulder. As she instinctively wrapped her arms around him, she could feel his heart racing. "Did I ever tell you what my grandfather said about you to me before I met you in the desert?" she whispered in an effort to distract him from whatever terror he'd dreamed about, rubbing small circles into his back. "He said that there were two people alive then who were smarter than him – you and me."

Despite the situation, Tony managed to let out a small laugh in between deep breaths. "Y-You were five."

"Hey, you're not the only one who was smarter than the other kids in class," Holly remarked, playfully swatting his arm. "He picked me up and as we were walking over to you and your dad. He said 'He's a well-dressed little shit, but he's a  _ brilliant _ well-dressed little shit. Just you watch kiddo, you two'll do great things together…especially if you turn out to be a looker like your mom.'" She paused to blink back a tear, and couldn't help but notice that his heart rate seemed to slow with every word.

He slowly raised his head when he felt her shift her weight uncomfortably with a painful grunt. He tilted his head up further when she stood up and popped her back, extending her hand down toward him. "What, the floor isn't comfortable?" he chuckled, struggling to hide the tear tracks as he let her pull him back into a standing position in the middle of the incoming flood of moonlight.

"You designed a lovely room Tony, but concrete is still hard on the knees." Realizing just what she'd just said and that he'd caught it, she rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. "Please resist the urge to make a 'that's what she said' joke."

"I can resist the urge to make the joke…" Tony began to chew on his left thumbnail nervously. "Stay with me? Please?" he asked in a quiet, pleading tone that he didn't know he had. "I'm not trying to get in your pants. I… I just need…"

She pushed her long brown hair over her shoulder. "Tony…that isn't a good idea."

"Please? I don't want to be alone. I can't be alone." He took her hand tentatively in his.

Worrying her bottom lip, Holly began to consider his offer. She'd already come this far. She took the opportunity to really look at him in the soft light. He'd definitely gotten older, but then again, being a superhero can do things like that to you. The touches of grey at his temples made her smile. He was sex on legs four years ago, but somehow had become more alluring after some soft crow's feet and laugh lines set in along with the grey.

…and he was vulnerable. The last time he looked at her like that was the first time she saw him after he got back from Afghanistan. She caved. "Lemme go get my phone?" At his nod, she left the room long enough to retrieve the device.

A minute later, Tony breathed a sigh of relief when she tiptoed back into the master bedroom. "Hey you."

"Nice bedroom," she commented, cautiously peeling back the plush blankets and crawling into the king sized bed after him. Laying on her side facing him, she tucked one arm up under the soft pillow. "Want to tell me what that dream was about?"

"One of a rotating few nightmares I've had since Loki came. They all involve me being unable to save someone…"  _ I love _ . "…important to me. I think it was because I stayed in the room with you after your surgery until Rogers got back with your clothes, but that first nightmare? It was you I couldn't save."

"And tonight?"

"You again." He reached over and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek. "Not being able to save you, to save anyone, scares the hell out of me."

"I'm here, Tony. I'm here with you, and I'm safe." Rolling onto her back, she tugged him to her side and pulled the blankets up over them. "Try and sleep," she admonished, bringing her head to rest against his. Once his breathing had devolved into soft snores, she let herself fall asleep with a smile on her face for the first time in a long time.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_ But then I think _

_ I'll wait until the _

_ Evening gets late _

_ And I'm alone with you _

_ The time is right _

_ Your perfume _

_ Fills my head _

_ The stars get red _

_ And oh the night's so blue _

_ And then I go _

_ And spoil it all _

_ By saying something stupid _

_ Like I love you _

 

When Holly finally opened her eyes early the next afternoon, her first thought wasn't the fact that she was, once again, asleep alone in Tony Stark's bed. It was to try to identify the source of the infernal beeping coming from outside. Rolling out of the soft sheets, she quickly peered out the large bedroom window, only able to see the front end of some sort of truck as it was clearly backing down into Tony's garage-stroke-workshop. Throwing her hair up into a messy bun, she slowly padded barefoot downstairs in her red cotton shorts and white tank top.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she rolled her eyes at the sight before her. "Tony, what in the hell are you doing?" She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"I got you a present," he explained as the tow truck driver began lowering the late Seventies model Pontiac that had definitely seen better days onto the garage floor. After he shook the driver's hand, the truck pulled out.

"Do I want to know how you managed to not only find that piece of shit but get it delivered before I woke up?"

"Probably not," he quipped. "It's best not to ask. And why ask questions? It's a present!" He stopped and a look of fear crossed his face. "You didn't fall out of love with the '77 Trans Am, did you?"

"Yes, I do still like the Trans Am." She took the keys out of Tony's hand and unlocked the dingy car. Pulling the hood release lever below the steering column, she wrenched open the hood. The smell of hot, burning engine oil filled her nose. When she saw the amount of grime covering the engine block, she turned back to Tony. "Does this even run?"

"Not really, but that's why I bought it."

"Thanks for the gesture, Tony, but I'm not sure why you felt the need to get me the strangest present I've ever received." Holly rested her hands on the rusted metal grille and sighed.

"Because I had to find something for you to do so you won't steal my car and go help Rogers." When she groaned, he moved to stand next to her. "It's also kind of a 'thanks for not judging last night' gift. And besides, you used to love things like this. Remember when we worked on the Ford?"

She shook her head. She couldn't really deny that she did have fun learning how to take an engine apart… Maybe this would be good for the both of them. A beat to shit classic car wasn't going to get him off the hook for everything up to and including their argument the previous day when she arrived, but it was a gesture in the right direction. "Let me go get some shoes on."

* * *

Two hours later, the pair had fallen back into an old quiet working rhythm. They successfully removed the seven liter engine from the car. Tony had begun work on dismantling the engine after draining the oil and coolant. Holly lay atop a creeper underneath the car trying to take off the radiator. Once the last bolt had been removed, she carefully maneuvered the large piece of the car off from its resting place on the frame and wheeled herself out from under the car. Bending backwards a little to compensate for the weight, she plopped the heavy piece down onto the work bench.

His hand hovered above the tools on the table, but didn't grasp them. Instead, he clenched and released a fist several times before deciding that this was just a good a time as any to ask the hypothetical question that'd been on his mind ever since he found out about his son. "I've been thinking… I have to know," he began hesitantly, choosing his next words carefully. "If you hadn't lost him…"

"What does it matter? It's not like we could ever have been a happy little family," Holly sighed, hooking the chains of the lift around the seized up transmission and grabbing the socket wrench. "Can we let the dead be?"

"No, we can't. Not now." He crossed the garage and yanked the socket wrench out of her hand. "How can you be so confident that we wouldn't have been happy?"

Snatching the wrench back, she put her hands on her hips and looked into his dark eyes. "Because a relationship built around an initial series of booty calls isn't exactly the best foundation for a family." When he started to protest in response, she cut him off. "I was an idiot that couldn't let a one-night stand be just that. And if you're being even remotely honest with yourself, that's exactly what you intended us to be when you walked into my lab that night. You never intended to even call me. And you didn't. You left a note and I called you."

Okay, she had him there. Holly – 1. Tony – 0. "But the fact that we stayed together for as long as we did has to mean something. We figured out that we worked and kept a good thing going."

"The only reason we worked as long as we did was that I'd say 'Sure, why the fuck not' and go with you when you said 'Let's go to Vegas because it's Thursday' or 'Bordeaux because I'm thirsty'. I never told you no."

"I never heard you complaining. In fact, I got the distinct impression that you liked it," he purred. "I remember you particularly enjoying that trip to Sardinia after your graduation so much that you told me you loved me." Holly – 1. Tony – 1.

"And I distinctly remember you returning the sentiment, but even the wrong people who are together for the wrong reasons may fall in love. Doesn't mean that those wrong reasons won't catch up to them eventually and rip it all down. When we worked, actually worked on something, we were good together. We still are. I realized that when we were working on that underlayment. But you've got to face it Tony, all we were good for apart from actually working were three things: sex, drunk sex, and questionable decisions."

"You're conveniently leaving out all the reasons that we did work," he interjected "the little things that made me realize that this was so much more than an extended one-night stand."

"Were there any?" Holly stepped toward him. "You never even asked me to move in. I was just a piece of arm candy, a business tool until you were in a cave ten thousand miles away. If we worked so well, why did you wait until it was too late?"

"I fucked up. I know I did. I tried to apologize for it. I've been kicking myself for almost five years now."

"And if we're being honest and all that's on the table, where would we stand if the baby lived? We'd probably be married, not out of love but guilt. I would have accepted your proposal for his sake alone. Babies inherently take away the ability to go to Vegas just because it's Thursday. That's what made us work. Take that away and we'd be constantly bickering. And you of all people know the toll that would take on a child."

"Okay yes, the baby would have been ill-timed. But  _ you _ of all people should know that given my relationship with my own father, I would have moved heaven and earth to make sure that he had the father he needed and deserved."

"Tony, no. It's a moot point."

"There's no 'Tony, no' here. We are going to let me talk for a while since you seem to have lost your fucking memory." Reaching back over toward the work table, he grabbed his tablet and brought up his music library. He flicked through to the playlist page until he found the ones that they were sharing between their devices and their titles. "You always made the most amazing little playlists," Tony reminisced with a small smile. "You had one for every mood. Hell, I'm fairly convinced that J.A.R.V.I.S. has been piggybacking your playlists ever since the attack when I hit skip more than ten times. Some of our best times had nothing to do with Vegas or anywhere else. You know what helped me sleep at night for three months in a cave? The memory of that three day  _ Doctor Who  _ marathon we had. I don't think we even left the sofa for more than a couple of hours. I remember you in your dad's ratty ass Foreigner shirt that you've held onto all this time bursting into tears when The Doctor said 'I'm burning up a sun just to say goodbye'…quickly followed by you throwing a wine glass across the room when the connection severed."

Holly smiled despite herself at the thought of the day in question. She'd cried less at funerals…

"When it got dark in that cave and I didn't think I'd make it out, I kept thinking back to that sentimental nerd who, for reasons unknown, seemed to only let her hair down with me. I'd close my eyes and you'd be there in that stupid Foreigner shirt plain as day doing a really bad Tennant impersonation. 'I've seen a lot of this universe. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demigods and would-be gods. I've had the whole pantheon. But if I believe in one thing, just one thing, I believe in her!' Of course in my head, you were saying 'I believe in him'. Y'know, anything to get through the day. This is what you're forgetting. Not that I ever told you that part before, but you're forgetting things like those days. It hurts worse than that ultrasound that you have convinced yourself to forget."

She did her best to hide her quivering bottom lip…until she couldn't. She dropped the wrench and crossed the room. Grabbing the conveniently located bottle of scotch, she poured herself  _ more  _ than enough into the first glass she could find and downed it. It was far from her favorite spirit, but it did the job and made her fingertips tingle.

"It's not even noon, Hol. Are you okay?"

"No I'm fucking not okay, Tony! But you might be drunk. I mean, why else would you be sentimental?"

"I'm not the best at serious conversation, I'll admit that…"

She ignored him and went back to her work on the transmission. Disconnecting the bolts and hoses in record time, she pumped on the lift to raise the cone-shaped part out of the engine compartment and lowered it onto the floor. "I'm going to go shower," she stated flatly. She put the wrench back in its place in the tool chest, refilled her glass with scotch, and made her way back upstairs.

Holly set the glass down on the marble bathroom countertop harder than she intended (mostly due to the fact she'd already had a glass full of scotch on an empty stomach) and stripped off her clothes, letting them stay where they landed on the floor. She turned on the taps and stepped inside the glass-walled shower with scotch in hand. Letting the warm water run down her back, she took a small nip of her liquid breakfast before beginning to wash her hair.

"Okay, so maybe we…" an intimately familiar voice began, clearly close enough to be in the bathroom.

She gasped in fright, backed into a corner of the ornately tiled shower, and covered herself as best she could. "Tony, what the fuck? Go away!"

"I wasn't finished, and you left."

"If it means that much to you, we can finish when I'm not naked!"

He pushed himself to sit on the counter. "But you're a captive audience. Plus, it's not like I've never seen you naked before."

Turning off the spray, she grabbed the nearby towel and wrapped it around her torso. "Okay now that I've stopped my life for you, please continue," she huffed, stepping out of the shower with her hair dripping onto the floor.

"I didn't ask you to stop."

"But I'm not going to get to shower in peace until you do. Frankly, you lost the right to see me naked long ago."

"Maybe I did, but I was trying to talk to you. You left."

She pushed her long, wet hair over her shoulder. "Because I didn't and still don't want to have this conversation. It's been five years. You're asking me to relive some of the worst days of my life, Tony. I don't think you understand just how painful that is." She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and hung her head. Reaching into the shower, she produced the full sized bar of soap she'd brought with her and dropped it into his hand. "You don't understand the fact that the first and only time I held  _ our _ son, he wasn't much larger than that bar of soap. A little more spherical maybe, but this is the best I can do in the middle of your bathroom."

Tony froze and stared down at the "DIAL" carved into the semi-fragrant bar of soap in his hand.

Holly took a deep breath and lowered her gaze to his trembling hands. "I woke up the morning we got the call they'd found you to what looked like the 'horse head in the bed' scene from  _ The Godfather _ . I panicked and called Pepper, who thankfully was only a couple miles away. She and Happy came and got me."

"Usually when people wake up in a pool of blood, they call an ambulance," Tony whispered, wishing he could reach her shower-scotch.

"If you thought people liked to follow us with cameras before, after you went missing they doubled. If I'd called an ambulance, they'd be waiting for me at the hospital. You'd be happy to know that Happy broke his own land speed record…" When he sniffled, she moved to stand a little closer and put a hand on his shoulder. "They wrapped him in a hand towel and let me hold him. I had to borrow Happy's reading glasses, but I could see he looked like you." At the memory of the angelic little face that looked like he was only sleeping, her anger melted away.

Biology overcoming willpower, tears began to slip down the billionaire's face. He felt small for the first time in his life.

"I couldn't let them take him away without a name. So I named him after the two most important men to me, the two men I would have wanted him to be like."

"Oh god," he breathed through the tears he couldn't stop.

She smiled despite her own emotions getting the better of her and lifted her head to face him again. "Anthony Michael." Holly smoothed a bit of hair back from his forehead. "I'll shower later. Give me a second to get some clothes back on, and we can…"

Tony hopped down off the counter and squeezed her hand. He quietly exited the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Sitting down on the guest bed, he stared once again at the bar of soap still in his hand. He was being rescued at the time, and she needed to be rescued. He couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't been so busy with… He looked up suddenly when he felt the bed dip beside him.

"I'll dream about him time and again. My favorite one so far is him sucking on one of your socket wrenches."

"I'm there?" he inquired incredulously.

"Sometimes. You were his father after all."

When he noticed her beginning to pick at the skin around her thumbnail, he took her left hand in his right and laced his fingers through hers. He found himself genuinely surprised when she squeezed his hand in return.

"As much as it pains me to say, you were right. I did forget the good days. I blocked them out. I almost caved when you reminded me."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because there's a reason that I made myself forget. I did it to protect myself."

"What?" The uncharacteristic waterworks had finally stopped and now…

"I was Pepper's first call when she heard your message on the secure server. She was worried. I realized after that call that I didn't check in on you because I owed Pepper big time for being there during  _ my  _ hour of need. I did it because I was still trying to make it up to a lemon-sized human that never made it into this world." Turning slightly to look him in the eye, she felt a small smile trying to fight its way to the surface.

"So he's the only reason you haven't actually killed me?"

Tossing her head back and forth a few times, she finally nodded. "Pretty much. I haven't let that sonogram leave my side since it was taken. It's the closest I'll get to having him in my arms again. And as long as I had it with me, I was never going to be able to let all go. And the only way that I could have let it all go was to let it  all go, to forget the good times with the bad. You reminded me of some of the happiest days of my life…" She paused to let out a sad laugh to attempt to cover up the rapidly re-forming tears.

"If you hadn't lost him, what would you have done? You didn't answer me earlier."

"Well, there are two versions of that. There's what I'd like to think I would have done and then there's what the young idiot that I was would have done. Which do you want?"

"Both."

"Well, I'd like to think what I would have done is storm into your lab, find out what in the hell you were thinking, and then punch you in the face for being a bastard."

He couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter. "So basically that same argument we had, only with a little more information."

"Basically. I would have then informed you of the existence of your fruit-sized offspring that was likely to have an IQ of over 145 and asked how you wanted to handle this. We could be cordial for his sake and go our separate ways, or work things out. The young and stupid me would have just skipped everything else and gone straight to telling you that I was pregnant, carrying on like I didn't know anything else because I was scared shitless."

"Well, despite the fact that the first version involves me almost getting a broken nose, I prefer that one."

"So what would you have said?"

Shifting his gaze away from hers, he sighed. "I know what it's like to feel like you're a disappointment to your dad. I know what it's like to have a dad who was there but not  _ there _ . I wouldn't wish that on anyone else." Looking back up at her, he cupped her face in his hands. "I would have done anything to make up for what I did, to ensure I didn't repeat Howard's mistakes."

Sucking the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, she sighed and closed her eyes. "Too bad that we're finally having this conversation when it's no more relevant than a floppy disc," she mused.

"Better late than never?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders in an effort to indicate that he had no idea what to say to the entire situation. "I'll never be able to tell you how sorry I am for everything that's happened, Holly, but I'd take it all back if I could."

She instinctively wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you…"

Tony returned the embrace, adding the comforting feeling of her arms around him again to the list of things he could never describe aloud. "Honestly, that therapist was probably right. I couldn't have dealt with that news then. Did you forget that I wiped out a terrorist cell to avenge the man that saved me?"

"I haven't forgotten that, no, but you didn't tell me until the end. I had other opportunities to tell you…"

"Stop," he commanded, backing away in order to look her in the eyes. "You were there for me every step of the way. If I called, you came, before and after Afghanistan. Hell, just look at last night. I…I never returned the favor. I haven't exactly been kind, either." When she tried to stop him, he shook his head. "You made it clear what you think yesterday. I know you, and I know there aren't magic words that I can say to make you believe me… But I loved you then. I love you now. I do."*

Holly was unable to hold back anymore, and a sob escaped.

"I'm so, so sorry." He gently tucked a damp curl behind her ear, leaning in just enough so she could close the distance and kiss him if she wanted. "Forgive me, please." He thought about saying a quick prayer to Point Break, but decided against it. If she closed the gap, he didn't want divine interference being behind it. Also, at this point, he should probably concede and build a fucking altar to the dude in the backyard.

She knew the kiss caught him off guard when his eyes  _ widened _ when her lips collided with his. When he pulled away for whatever reason, she fisted her hand in his ratty tee shirt and pulled him back toward her. She watched through lidded eyes as he gently allowed the tip of his nose to run up her cheek before gently kissing her again. Lost in the sensation of the unexpected but welcome intimacy, she kissed her way up his left cheek and drew him into her so that he buried his forehead in the side of her neck. "I wasn't kind, either, Tony. I was hurt. I was a wreck," she whispered as she gently touched the hair at the nape of his neck. "I forgive you, if you can forgive me."

He lifted his head and smiled at her. "Thank you."

"I loved you then, too. You know that. I can't…" Despite her reservations, she didn't shy away when he kissed her again.

"As long as I'm forgiven, the rest can wait." He stood up and held out his hand. "Wanna help me rebuild an engine?"

"Later. Unlike you, I can't do scotch for breakfast. I need solid food." She took his hand and headed downstairs.

* * *

After breakfast and several more hours of car deconstruction, the pair retired upstairs when Holly complained of lower back pain from being hunched over the dismantled clutch for too long. She took a long, hot shower (this time, mercifully in peace) and redressed in clean sweatpants and positively ancient Foreigner tee shirt she inherited from her late father.

"I was wondering if you still had that shirt," Tony commented with a grin, poking his finger through the hole by her left hip that had only grown larger over the years.

She smacked his hand away. "Don't make the hole bigger! My days with this shirt are numbered, and I'd rather that number be larger than smaller."

"Your dad would murder me slowly if he knew just how many times I peeled his shirt off of you in the heat of the moment."

"Probably," she confirmed with a snort. "But he'd stop caring the second you said 'Scott, meet Captain America'."

"Yeah…"

"I'm worried about him, too, Tony. There's a reason I haven't checked my phone or the television all day. He wants me away from…whatever it is. If I check it and see something I don't like, I'll be on the first plane back." Stepping so that her chest touched his, she dropped her head onto his shoulder and took his hands into hers. "But he wants me here with you."

"So you'll trust him, but not me?"

Holly lifted her head and rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but immediately closed it.

"I know that look. You just passed the opportunity to make a comeback."

"I don't want to fight."

Tony gripped her biceps and ducked his head to look into her eyes. "Whatever you were going to say, I deserve it."

"He's not the reason I have trust issues, Tony."

"Yup," he removed his hands from her arms and clapped them together as he walked away. "I'm going to order a pizza. Hawaiian still good with you or…?"

She threw her hands up in the air. "I… Sure, Tony. Whatever you want." She shook her head and walked into the guest bedroom, where she promptly flopped onto the bed face down. She was going to have to throttle Steve whenever she saw him again. And she was going to throttle Tony at the next opportunity that presented itself for calling out her out to California in the first place. Life was just fine before she'd been summoned back to the Golden State.

Rolling over onto her back, she pulled the old sonogram out of her purse again. She stared at it for almost half an hour before she could form any words. "Secret's out, Munchkin. Your daddy knows. We worked on a car for a while today. Coincidentally, I think that's what we were doing when you were conceived," she whispered with a grin.

Just outside the door, Tony was mildly surprised that she hadn't heard him coming…until he heard her whisper.  _ Daddy _ . In reference to him. Was that what his son would have called him? Before he dropped the pizza box with the glass of wine and scotch on the rocks balanced precariously on top, he tapped the doorframe with his foot in lieu of knocking. "Food's here."

She cleared her throat and shoved the sonogram back into her bag. "A meal in bed from my ex-boyfriend? I feel special." She lifted the wine glass from the box and raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you trying to get into my pants or something? Y'know 'we're stuck here under Cap's orders, out of things to do, might as well get naked'? I know how your mind works."

"I'm merely trying to make up for being an ass." Walking around to the other side of the bed, he put his drink on the other nightstand. He sat down on the bed and put the pizza box between them. "I wouldn't say no if you asked, but I have zero expectation of you asking."

She reached down and opened the pizza box and withdrew a slice without verbally responding. Instead, she rubbed his arm with her free hand and smiled.

After they'd both eaten their fill of pizza, Holly gently set the box containing the leftovers onto the floor. She tipped up her wine glass to finish off the last drops. Glancing over at Tony on the other side of the bed, she smiled. He was propped in a half-sitting position against the headboard of the king sized bed, deeply relaxed and absentmindedly stroking the side of his tumbler of scotch. She scooted across the bed until she was next to him. Laying down, she curled into his side and rested her head on his chest.

"Mmm hi," Tony mumbled lazily as he set his glass on the nightstand.

"Hi yourself," she replied, lifting herself up just enough to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before reassuming her previous position. "Thanks for the pizza."

Twirling one of her chocolate ringlets around his index finger, Tony couldn't help but smile. "I've missed this," he admitted softly, his nose and lips pressed firmly onto the top of her head. She'd changed her perfume, but then again, he never knew her to have any less than five bottles of various perfumes in her cabinet. This fragrance was new, however. Her shampoo hadn't changed. Her hair still smelled like expensive sunscreen. Secretly, he decided that while he would never say no her being a blonde again (because what gentleman  _ didn't _ prefer blondes), this…new grown up, world-savvy, brunette Holly was quite alluring.

She tilted her head up at his words, catching an eye-full of his hallmark facial hair and the soft wrinkles around his mouth. "Me too."

"Y'know," he started after his tongue darted out and licked his lips, "one of my favorite things was always kissing you after a couple glasses of merlot. It's never been my favorite wine, but for some reason, it just tastes so good on you. It suits you."

"That's a helluva line, but I'll give it to you." She raised herself up slightly. "Because I feel the same way about scotch." Partially emboldened by the wine, she kissed the soft skin on the side of his neck. She chuckled when he groaned loudly.

"And you remember which button to push." Tony sat upright in the bed. "I should put the leftovers in the fridge."

Holly reached over and took his hand. "I've done a lot of thinking today. Both of us put a lot out into the open. I…" She closed her eyes. "I'm like a moth to a flame with you. I realized that when I finally got over being mad at you."

He slumped back down and brought her back into her previous position against his chest. "And wouldn't you know it, I've always known I'm still in love with you."

"I've sabotaged every attempt at a romantic relationship for the past four years because no one's you. I haven't been myself in years. The last day I was completely happy was the day before that fucking reporter cornered me."

"What are you saying?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling.

She tapped his stomach until he looked her in the eye. "I'm not  _ saying  _ so much as  _ asking _ ."

He grabbed her hips roughly and pulled her onto his lap, crashing his lips onto hers.

She broke the kiss for air when his hands found their way under her shirt and began caressing the soft skin of her lower back. In that moment, the only thing she cared about was the familiar taste of scotch on Tony Stark's lips. It was like coming home after being away for far too long.

Tony's breath hitched in his throat as he felt her petite hands pull his tee shirt up and over his head before moving southward to make quick work of his belt and pants. His breathing became ragged with anticipation. Fisting his right hand in the pile of curls at the back of her head, he closed his eyes. "Oh fuck," he whispered as she began running her hands up his trim thighs. He felt her breath over his tented boxers…and then felt something else entirely after she disposed of those, too. He moaned loudly when he felt her tongue running up his length before she took him entirely in her mouth. The vibrations of her chuckling softly at his reactions while she still had him in her mouth were almost enough to send him barreling over the edge.

She felt him start to tense under her ministrations. She knew he was close. She'd let him suffer, she decided before releasing him with a pop and climbing back into his lap. "Remembered where  _ that  _ button was, too."

"Woman, you are wearing entirely too much clothing," he growled, taking hold of the bottom of the v-neck shirt.

"Don't rip it!"

"I won't," he growled as she pulled the shirt off herself. He made quick work of her lace trimmed bra and let it fall to the floor. He worked quickly to divest her of her remaining clothing as their lips met again hungrily.

"Oh my god," she said almost reverently as she felt him slide into her. She gripped the top of the metal headboard for support.

"I don't need to tell you how much I've missed  _ this _ , do I?" he asked, his voice thick with a combination of lust and possessiveness. His hands quickly found purchase on her backside before he began thrusting his hips upward rapidly. "I love you."

"I love you too," she managed between pleasured moans and gasps for air. "Oh god, don't stop."

He couldn't stop, even if he wanted to. He knew she was dangerously close…as was he. She'd begun to say his name softly over and over, her "tell". He wrapped his arms around her middle when he felt her clench around him, her whole body shaking as she came…loudly. He groaned into her ear when he'd finally found his own release.

Her clammy grip on the headboard loosened, and she collapsed onto Tony. "Holy shit," she whispered as she struggled to catch her breath.

"D-Did you mean it?" he inquired as she rolled onto her side.

"Of course I did." She slipped under the sheets and used them to cover herself. "What about the things I said before would make you think I told my ex-boyfriend that I still love him just because we were mid-coitus?"

"What are you thinking right now?"

"That sex with you is just as good as I remember it. I regret nothing. And just like before, I'm not expecting a damn thing from you after we get the order to part ways."

He followed her and crawled beneath the sheets. "What if I didn't want to 'part ways'?"

"I need more wine before I get into that." She got out of the bed and followed the trail of discarded clothing around the room until she located her panties, Foreigner tee shirt, and pajama pants. "You want more scotch?"

"If you're going…" When she collected their glasses and exited the room, he laid down in the bed and put his hands behind his head. He got some that wasn't from his own hand. Great. But it was from  _ her _ , the one he compared everyone else to. The one that he… The mother of his dead child. His  _ only _ child. They loved each other, they just admitted that. How could it be bad? It could be bad because he was…himself. He'd fuck up again. He'd let her down again. How could he…

"Two fingers of scotch on the rocks," Holly announced, handing him the refilled glass and climbing back into bed. "Do you want to explain exactly what you meant by not wanting to part ways a few minutes ago?"

"Have you ever thought about leaving S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Tony asked, finally looking up from his glass.

Handing him her wine, she pulled up her left pant leg to reveal the unsightly surgery scar from her knee injury in the Battle for New York. "Pretty much every day since this. They ruined my chances of ever getting the perfect tan again, not to mention the physical therapy that near killed me."

"Why don't you leave?"

"The opportunities to apply my work." She tucked her legs up under her and looked at him excitedly. "I have outdone my family, Tony. I was  _ there _ when they brought Steve back to New York. No one else in my family has even  _ met _ him. I have made two of his suits. That's one more than Amos made, and two more than my father and grandfather made. I could only ever do that at S.H.I.E.L.D.. That, and they'd probably erase my memory a la  _ Men in Black _ if I left. What are you trying to get me to say?"

"If Sharon's right about everything in her message, it's not safe for you to go back there." When Holly opened her mouth to protest, he reached over and pinched her lips shut. "I am perfectly well aware that you can empty a clip into a man's chest…however quickly you can do that. I have been there when you've fired on innocent mannequins wearing your suits. I just…I have an opportunity to keep you safe, and I want to do that. Maybe the nightmares will go away."

"So after I quit S.H.I.E.L.D. to assuage your guilt over not saving me in a dream, what then? I'm not going to work for  _ you _ . With you, maybe. For you, fuck no. And you're not going to install anything J.A.R.V.I.S. related in my living spaces." She paused and shrugged. "No offense, J.A.R.V.I.S.."

" _ None taken, Miss Morgan _ ."

"This is about keeping me safe in your mind, so how are you…" She trailed off and glared at Tony. She began to laugh in disbelief as she climbed back out of the bed. "Two damn years we were together, and you never asked me to move in with you. Then I give into that tiny voice in the back of my head that says sex with my ex and tequila shots are good ideas, and suddenly you want me in your living space? And it's because of a  _ dream _ ! Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds, especially coming from you?"

"Hol, you were there that day. Aliens came through a hole in the sky. I happen to know you dropped one with one round from a Second World War rifle while being unable to walk. What else is out there?"

"So you want to protect the world, not just me. That's admirable. Where's the rest of the world going to live so you can protect  _ them _ ? Where was this concern for me when the aforementioned aliens were invading right above my head?"

Tony rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Don't think for a minute that I wasn't worried about you. At the time, I had a much more immediate problem. And the one place safer than S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ that I could have sent you was occupied by a batshit crazy god hell bent on world domination. You were safer where you were." He got out of the bed and pulled his boxers back on before walking around to where she stood. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he kissed her forehead. "I don't know about the rest of the world, baby. I wish I did. I do know that after the Tower took all those hits last year, I remodeled. There are enough floors for each Avenger to have one. And enough high tech lab equipment to keep you busy for years."

"And is there a floor for me?"

"I didn't plan for that, no."

Holly nodded. "But there's plenty of room on your floor for two, right?" she asked sarcastically. When he shrugged, she rolled her eyes. "Figured. I've got conditions."

Relieved beyond belief, he tilted his head down to kiss her…only he wound up kissing her raised hand instead of her lips.

"Hold on, Romeo. You should probably hear my terms first."

He backed away and folded his arms across his bare chest.

"Number one –  _ If _ I do this, I'm a consultant for the Avengers as a whole, not just you. My salary is one penny more than S.H.I.E.L.D currently pays me so that I can say I'm leaving for a better offer."

"Work with me, not for me. More money. Got it."

"I'm not done. I get my own lab space. I get my own bedroom. While I'm open to us trying another run at this, I've been through too much to just jump back in with both feet. You get your place back in my bed when you've earned it."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Prove that my trust in you isn't misplaced. Prove to me that I'm not going to get my heart stomped on again. I'm trusting you to protect more than my life, Tony."

He reached out and pulled her against him. "And if I give you what you want, you'll move in?"

"Yes."


	19. Chapter Eighteen

 

_ All the roads you took came back to me _

_ So I'm following the map that leads to you… _

 

Holly plopped down on the couch next to Tony the next afternoon with a groan. Another long day of car work spent with her hunched over the shittiest transmission known to man. She'd offered various profanity-peppered theories on the type of person who would let their car fall into this level of disrepair. The fragrant glass of pinot grigio in her hand was definitely helping to cool her mood.

Tony grabbed the remote from the end table and turned on the television before beginning to scroll through the channel guide.

"Oh my god! Put it on 576, Tony," Holly commanded excitedly, grasping for the television remote as he made every effort to keep it away from her.

"Just how many times have you seen this?" he asked with an eye roll.

"Probably far too many times for my own good, but for fuck's sake, it's Sean Connery!" She folded her arms across her chest when he selected the channel and put the remote on the table out of her reach.

Tony cringed. "That awkward moment when you remember that your girlfriend is into older men, and you might just be too young for her."

She quickly swatted his arm. "Oh please." Once she was reasonably sure that he wasn't going to change the channel, she snuggled into his side and wrapped her arms around his middle. "Also, one roll in the hay and I'm your girlfriend again?"

" _ And once more, we play our dangerous game, a game of chess, against our old adversary – the American Navy. _ "

"It just sort of slipped out. Old habits…"

"Well before it slips out in public, just remember that you're working on earning it."

He hummed his agreement and hugged her close.

" _ For forty years, your fathers before you and your older brothers played this game and played it well. But today, the game is different. We have the advantage. It reminds me of the heady days of Sputnik and Yuri Gagarin, when the world trembled at the sound of our rockets. _ "

Tony inhaled sharply, biting down on his lower lip to resist the almost unbearable urge to change the channel. She'd taken a chance on him when she let him back into her life, the least he could do for her was let her watch a movie in peace.

" _ Well, they will tremble again at the sound of our silence. _ "

He'd told her about the nightmares, but he hadn't told her everything. Chancing a glance down at her, he breathed a sigh of relief that she clearly couldn't hear his heart pounding over the movie. He began to absentmindedly run his fingers up and down her soft shirt sleeve as his mind began racing. He quickly threw his other hand over his mouth to stop the sudden wave of nausea.

" _ Comrades, our own fleet doesn't know our full potential. They will do everything possible to test us, but they will only test their own embarrassment. We will leave our fleet behind. _ "

Rockets. Missiles. He'd had enough of the war machine to last a lifetime. He wasn't blameless. Spending three months in a cave in Afghanistan had taught him that. He'd profited greatly from being the "Merchant of Death". He probably paid for a hot rod or two with the proceeds of one of Stane's under-the-table secret deals.

" _ We will pass through the American patrols, pass their sonar nets, and lay off their largest city and listen to their rock and roll while we conduct missile drills. And when we are finished, the only sound they will hear is our laughter while we sail to Havana where the sun is warm and so is the comradeship. A great day, comrades. We sail into history. _ "

As he looked down at Holly, he felt his heart breaking. She'd finally broken down and told him what really happened to her while he was…away. While he was barely surviving, living on his fight-or-flight responses, she'd broken completely. He sighed heavily. His captivity was his own fault, the inevitable result of his greed.

Afghanistan. Before his extended stay at Chez Terrorist, he'd only ever thought about the country in the terms of who was buying his weapons to kill whom currently. His old man had sold things here and there to the Soviets before Carter slapped an embargo on trade with them. His old man sold more bombs to the CIA to supply to the mujahedeen. He didn't even want to think about what happened to Howard's firepower after the Soviets pulled out.

He'd supplied the Army after 9/11 when they invaded. Then Stane had sold arms to the Ten Rings and everything went wrong. He'd changed irrevocably. He'd irrevocably changed his company, too.

He clutched her to him tightly as he stared up at the ceiling, amazed that she hadn't even stirred. His outlook had definitely changed. He'd removed himself and his company out of the war machine. He was more "baby bottles and hospitals" now.

But despite everything he'd done since removing the Stark Industries cog from the machine, he couldn't help but feel a bit like Michael Corleone in  _ The Godfather Part III _ when he laments "just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in". The things that had changed since Afghanistan changed again the moment he went into space. He'd always looked to the stars. He grew up reading fantasy books and watching sci-fi shows and movies.

He'd seen the stars that once comforted him. The beautiful gas clouds and points of light looked just like they did on  _ Doctor Who  _ and  _ Star Trek. A _ nd they were nothing but death and destruction now all because he detonated yet another weapon. He not only became death the moment he delivered the nuclear warhead into space, he transformed the stars into death as well. In that moment, he knew how Robert Oppenheimer felt when they tested the first atomic bomb. "Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."

It felt like his soul had been stepped on by an elephant as he realized that his childhood comforts were no longer comforting at all. It was all his fault. Tony felt familiar pressure building up in his sinuses as he let out a silent sob. He'd done so much to erase his "Merchant of Death" moniker, but none of it mattered. The second that warhead blew up, he had once again earned the name.

Looking down at Holly watching the movie peacefully unaware of his inner turmoil, the tears began to fall faster. She'd tell him he was being silly undoubtedly. He could only hope that she'd never feel like she'd let humanity down on a cosmic level. He prayed silently that he could always spare her that feeling. He'd let her down and lost her once. He might not make it out the other side if he did it again. He wasn't going to fuck it up again.

His train of thought derailed suddenly when her cell phone rang. The combination of the sounds of Electric Six and the phone vibrating against the glass top of the coffee table made an unholy racket. "Hey, 'Thirteen Days' is calling you. The world is either about to end, or it's already ended and no one told the entire state of California." He quickly wiped the tears away on his shirt sleeve while she was distracted.

"Sharon?! Is that you?"

Tony relaxed when he heard the female voice on the other end of the call confirm her identity. Despite his nervousness, he turned his attention back to the television. Who was he to compete with Peggy Carter's grand-niece for Holly's attention? The woman had her great aunt's sense of practicality and timing.

"W-Where is he? … Missing? What the fuck do you mean missing? … H…What? HYDRA? … Oh god. I'll leave right now. … Okay, I'll bring him, too." She ended the call and clutched the phone to her chest. "I can't breathe," she wheezed, dropping to her knees on the floor.

"Sharon wants you and me somewhere," he began as he joined her on the floor, much as she had done for him two nights before. "Tell me where, and I'll call the pilot."

Taking his hand in hers, she traced "D.C." into his palm with her finger as she struggled to catch her breath.

With a kiss to her forehead, he pulled his phone from his pocket and placed the call to his pilot. After several encouraging sentences to Holly, he raced upstairs and shoved all her belongings (clean and dirty) into her bags before bringing them down to her. "Can you stand, baby? George is standing by with the plane as we speak." When she nodded, he crossed his wrists and pulled her into a standing position. He lifted her multiple bags onto his left shoulder and took her left hand into his right.

 

Once they were both ensconced on the plane, she collapsed onto Tony. "No word yet as to Steve's location. She said this assassin was after him." With a sharp intake of breath, she dropped her head into her hands and began to weep. "Within the last five years, I thought I buried you. I actually buried the man that raised me. I lost my son. I cannot bury the man… I can't bury Steve."

"And you won't have to," Tony reassured as the private jet taxied down the runway. He prayed that he was right. He saw her at Coulson's funeral, and almost ran to hold her. "My software is much better than Howard's was seventy years ago. J.A.R.V.I.S. knows the particulars of the Marianas Trench, much to NOAA's dismay. He will find Rog…Steve if he's still missing when we get there."

"I cannot fail him, Tony." Holly paused to clear her ears as the plane climbed toward cruising altitude. "I need him safe."

"We'll find him. He's a beefy blond in a social media obsessed world. Someone will post a picture of the man whose torso is an actual Dorito. We'll find him quicker if he was wearing one of his spangly suits."

She rolled her eyes. "I like your optimism, but your obsession with snack food won't help him."

"You've outdone your family. Allow me the same pleasure."

* * *

Somewhere over Tennessee, the couple-ish received news that Rogers had been found in a public park next to a river near the District of Columbia. After she had spent a few seconds crying in relief, Tony picked her up and carried her (only slamming the both of them into the wall because of turbulence once) into the bedroom on the plane. "Just sleep," he encouraged, lying down next to her on the bed.

Rolling over onto her side, she rested her back against his chest and didn't resist when he draped an arm around her waist. Before a fitful sleep finally took her, she offered two silent prayers to whoever was listening – one for Steve and one to make sure she was doing the right thing in regards to Tony.

* * *

Holly slowly opened the door to Steve's hospital room, smiling when she heard the faint sounds of Marvin Gaye flowing from the iPod dock on the table beside the bed. "Nice," she nodded. "I'm Holly."

The non-injured man in the room pushed himself up in the chair and popped his back. "Sam Wilson."

"I'll tell you from experience that he's not big on solo George Harrison material."

"The 'Wall of Sound' is what I don't like," Steve offered weakly, pushing himself to sit up a little more. The sharp pain in his gut intensified with the exertion.

She plopped down on the left edge of Steve's bed. "Oh my god! Are you okay? Romanoff said you'd been shot!"

When Steve took her hand in an attempt to calm his friend down, Sam raised an eyebrow. Then another man's voice could be heard. He looked back at the door to see none other than Tony Stark, Iron Man himself, entering the room.

"You're in for it now, Rogers. She's gone into 'mother hen' mode. Having been on the receiving end of that once, I can tell you that it'll take you about two weeks to fully shake her," the billionaire offered before looking to the only person in the room he didn't know. "Don't believe we've met. Tony Stark."

Sam put down his book and stood up. "Sam Wilson," he responded nervously as he accepted the handshake.

Glancing over at Holly fussing over the super soldier, he rolled his eyes. "Romanoff tells me you can fly. Why don't we leave mother hen and the chick here and talk about it?" Tony smiled as Sam followed him out of the room.

"Rogers didn't tell me that he had a girlfriend," Sam mused when the door shut behind them. He watched the brunette hold up a cloth to his new friend's cheek.

Tony coughed. "He doesn't, well, not as far as I know." When the younger man shot him a confused look, he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "She's my… Well, it's complicated. I have to earn my way back in…again."

"Again?"

He didn't know why he continued, but he did. Maybe something about driving the fact home that Holly  _ was not  _ Steve's girlfriend… "She and I were together for a good while back when I still made weapons. We broke up after I said 'surprise, I'm Iron Man'. We didn't speak for a long time, but circumstances change."

Sam nodded. He wasn't quite sure why the billionaire was sharing all this with him, but it didn't really matter. "So Natasha told you I can fly?"

 

Back in the hospital room, Steve tried yet again to wave her hand away. "Holly, I'm in pain, but I'll be fine. I promise."

Nodding, she looked down at her hand resting atop his on the bed. "I know you will, Steve. I really do. I'm just… S.H.I.E.L.D. is gone. Fury's dead. Everything's changed in the blink of an eye… I'm just worried. And I'm worried about you, too. Must've been one hell of a fight for them to put  _ you _ in the hospital."

"It was," he winced. "But it's over now."

"Still… I talked it over with Tony on the way here, and we want you to take a floor of the Tower. Move in. With S.H.I.E.L.D. gone, it may be best for you guys to stick together."

"Wait, 'we' as in you and Tony? You don't even live there."

"I will by tonight. There are movers at my apartment right now. Tony's working on finding cover jobs for Agent Hill and Sharon at his company."

"And what about you?"

"I-I honestly don't know. I'm not hurting for money by any stretch of the imagination, and since I'll be living with Tony, I'll help him with some projects."

"Taking a floor like what you want me to do 'living with him' or living with him 'living with him'?"

She absentmindedly tucked the blankets closer around him. "I will be living on his floor, but he has to earn anything else." When the wounded super soldier glared at her, she shrugged. "Steve, I… I'm not perfect, and neither is Tony. But he…we aren't…."

"You're not together?"

"I don't know what we are, Steve." She breathed out heavily. "He wants to keep me safe, and I'm inclined to let him. We… We've had a lot of time to talk over the past couple of days. Despite not acting like it much over the past couple of years, we really do still love each other. We've both changed significantly, but apparently that feeling didn't go away. But enough about me," she grinned and smoothed his sleep-mussed hair. "I hear you've turned into a little kleptomaniac. I go out to California and you break into the Smithsonian and steal a truck."

"I did what I had to do," Steve defended quickly.

"I'm not mad. I'm impressed." She ducked her head to whisper in his ear. "So I have to know, out of the three, which suit do you prefer? If you like any of my two better, I won't tell my great-grandfather."

"And if I preferred his?"

"I'll make your next one with less polymer and more leather. Phil gave me design input once." She looked out the window sadly before returning her gaze to his. "It's only fitting you get to do the same. Plus, one of the ground rules I gave Tony was that I get my own lab at the Tower. We'll get you set up."

"Sounds good." For the first time since waking up in the hospital, he smiled. He weakly motioned with his hands for her to hug him. When she murmured into the side of his neck that she was going to have to microchip him like a puppy so that he couldn't go missing again, he held her against him with one arm loosely around her middle and his other hand idly running through her hair. It was so good to be back, and even better to have a friend (even if she was a bit overprotective). If only he could think of a way to break the Bucky news to her…

_ "Buck, do you remember me?" _

_ "Your mom's name is Sarah. You used to wear newspaper in your shoes.” _


End file.
